Latest news with #comedian
Telegraph
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Lenny Henry says he needed therapy after going on The Black and White Minstrel Show
Sir Lenny Henry has said he needed therapy after appearing on The Black and White Minstrel Show. The comedian admitted he 'didn't realise' what he was doing when he became the first black performer to appear on the controversial BBC programme. The prime-time entertainment show, which ran from 1958 to 1978, was known for white singers and actors donning blackface for their acts. However, Henry, 66, who appeared on the show as a teenager, has revealed the toll it took on his mental health. Speaking to The Times, he said: 'I was 16 and didn't realise what I was doing.' Henry, who worked on the show between 1975 and 1979, has previously spoken about regretting his family not intervening to stop him taking part. 'Many lows' The comic said he has been receiving grief therapy ever since his mother died in 1998, but admitted he needed therapy sooner. 'I have had several times when I needed help,' he added. 'Many lows, even at 16 doing the Minstrel Show. But I'm much better at admitting I need help now.' Henry continued: 'The last decade has seen more people admit they need help – which is a big deal. 'If you need help, seek it out. Because the alternative is unthinkable. There is a lot available that we don't access, because we think we can beat it on our own, so also: talk to your friends. If a mate comes to you with a problem, listen.' Henry has previously said he was contractually obliged to take part in the programme which had already come under scrutiny before his appearance on it. In May 1967, the Campaign Against Racial Discrimination submitted a petition for it to be axed by the corporation. But it was not until the late 1970s that it was eventually pulled – partly because variety shows' popularity was waning with audiences.
Times
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Times
Have we met? My life as a comedian who can't remember a single face
The plane began to shudder and bounce. I gripped my arm rest as the worst turbulence I'd ever experienced rocked the flight. I thought: 'This is it — this is the moment I'm going to die.' My mind turned to my mum and dad but I was unable to picture their faces. Some people might see their life flashing before their eyes at that moment, but I was unable to conjure up anything. Days before the flight, a comedian I was gigging with told me he couldn't picture things in his head, a condition called aphantasia. I told him I couldn't either. I've never been able to picture anything in my mind's eye. It dawned on me that I had the same thing. I find it crazy that people can think in images. We simply assume our brains work the same way as everyone else's. We're constructing our reality but our constructions of the world are completely different. Mine is all about language. I think in words. The main way in which it affects me is that I've got a terrible memory, particularly when in Edinburgh during the Fringe Festival because there are so many people. I've no idea if they are comedians, audience members or if I'm just madly waving at a stranger. Once, after a gig, a guy started talking to me. He was really friendly but I'd no idea who he was. Because I was at the festival I took a punt and asked him how his show was going. It turned out he was a school friend and he then figured out I'd been talking to him for a quarter of an hour pretending I knew who he was. People think I'm rude. But I'm not rude, I just really struggle to remember faces. If you try to explain aphantasia it sounds a bit mad to a lot of people, as many are unable to conceptualise not being able to see images in your head. • Up to 5% of people can't visualise things. What's that like? When I watch films, I forget what happened. There are a lot of films I've watched two or three times and I wouldn't be able to tell you anything about them. But the main effect aphantasia has had on me is that I have a poor autobiographical memory. I remember little of my childhood. It affects your sense of self. For a few years I was like: 'Why can't I remember who I am?' Later on, when my former girlfriend would ask me about our first date, I couldn't remember the details. It's frustrating. I have a lot of pictures on my phone to help remind me. Finding out I had aphantasia made me realise my 'problems' were because my brain worked in a different way. For ages I would think: 'What's wrong with me?' I'd go to therapy and be asked to visualise something but I just couldn't. Now I can think: 'This is just how my brain works.' It's a hardware issue, not something bad-bad. When I understood that, a lot of the self-recrimination went away. Aphantasia is thought to affect about 4 per cent of the population, 2.7 million people nationwide, and it helps to know I'm not alone. I'm quite emotionally numb in my life, which is apparently a characteristic of people with aphantasia. Because I don't remember moments like other people do — I can't picture them — I feel things a bit less strongly. I can't remember that scene of breaking up with someone, which makes life slightly less intense. When I think of that breakup, I'm not playing it back and feeling the emotionals. Most people experience their memories as some kind of film playing in their head. I don't. I'm quite a dark comedian sometimes, without particularly meaning to be, and I wonder if that's because of my condition. When I started out I was always shocked by the reaction of audiences and I think that's because I'm not seeing the visuals I'm creating. I don't have that visceral reaction to jokes other people do. Instead, I see them as word puzzles. Aphantasia hasn't yet made it into my Fringe show this year. I forgot what a strange thing it was. But there is still a bit of time before it starts, so I can imagine some jokes about it might make their way in. I like to think it makes me a better comedian because all that I have are words.
Telegraph
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
David Baddiel: ‘I've learnt the world doesn't have to hear my opinion on everything'
Born in New York City in 1964, David Baddiel moved to Britain when he was a baby. He got a double-first at Cambridge before moving to London to be a comedian in the 1980s. Now one of Britain's best-known comedians and TV presenters, he's worked with Frank Skinner, Al Murray and Hugh Dennis, and authored more than 16 books, plays and various sitcoms. He lives with his wife, the actress Morwenna Banks, with whom he has two children, Dolly, 24, and Ezra, 20. Best childhood memory? I had a very weird childhood. My dad was an occasionally funny but emotionally stunted Welsh scientist, and my mother was more flamboyant, and had a decades-long affair with an Alan Partridge-esque golf memorabilia expert. Their three children were often an after-thought. But I look at my childhood as a tragicomic sculpture that made me who I am. Every good childhood memory I've got is ironic. Every summer holiday, we went to stay at my grandparents' in Swansea. It was only years later, when I was in my 20s, that I realised how beautiful the surrounding area was, like Three Cliffs Bay – but we never explored because my parents couldn't be bothered. I remember how excited I was to have a full Welsh breakfast, which may confuse people given I'm Jewish and there's pork in it, but Dad would often cook us bacon sandwiches before sending us off to our Orthodox Jewish primary school. Best lesson you've learnt? The truth is always complex. Without a doubt, my family is an object part of me learning this. The truth is in the detail, and the detail is complex. My mother had a long-term affair and was flagrant about it, and my dad was an angry man in denial about it who later got dementia and got even angrier. This could be viewed negatively, but I'm someone who naturally sees the funny side of things. Life is rich, strange and complex – and for me, ultimately comedic. And that's how I get through life: by viewing challenging times as comedy or with optimism. You can't be at the mercy of your past for the rest of your life. Like Nora Ephron said, 'everything's copy'. Best part of being a parent? I remember going to antenatal classes when Morwenna was pregnant with Dolly, and I said to the teacher, 'This has all been great and very interesting about how to deal with the birth, but what about the next 18 years? Any advice on that?' In retrospect, it was a bit naughty of me to say, but I wish there was more about the afterwards part. Being a parent is brilliant – there's this instinctive empathy for your children in a way you've never felt before. Now I've got a really close relationship with both Dolly and Ezra. I've loved seeing the evolution of their personalities and the adults they've become. I hang out with my kids all the time, and Ezra and I went on holiday just the two of us last year, and then I did the same with Dolly. I'll be bereft when Ezra moves out, because my mate will be gone. Best characteristic or trait? I try to be as honest as possible. I find it very difficult to lie at all, and if I'm telling what I perceive to be the truth, I tell it in extreme detail. So that's why there are lots of footnotes in my book, because I'm constantly clarifying things. I get a sort of physical discomfort not telling the absolute truth in absurd detail, because there's comedy in the detail. It can be annoying for other people because it's exhausting. I developed this trait as a kid because I was constantly defending myself to my mother, so I figured the safest thing was to be as authentic as possible. Best decision? Having kids. When I met Morwenna in our 30s, it wasn't necessarily on the table. And then when we had Dolly, it hit me that I couldn't imagine not having kids. It was what I was put on earth to do. I say that as a fundamentalist atheist who believes there is no purpose to life. I mean, I'm lucky I love what I do – telling stories and making people laugh – but there's no big point to that. Even though I had a chaotic and unusual childhood, and work has kept me busy, having kids is the only thing that has fundamentally changed who I am. Worst trait? I'm not cautious. I'm continuously getting into scrapes and doing things like eating something that is clearly off, but I'll be thinking, 'What's the worst that could happen?' Morwenna once asked if I'd ever thought about saying the second thing that comes into my head. Something I've learnt through social media is the world doesn't have to hear my opinion on everything. I think a lot of people, including myself, could learn that, even if you have the 'right' opinion, it may not be the right thing for you to enter the fray with it. Social media has created a situation whereby everyone thinks they need to express their views. I used to enjoy online debates, but it's become one big jar of constant fighting, and there's no point in joining in, because it'll just increase the toxicity. Worst advice? The constant advice from my dad that the sciences – maths, physics and chemistry – were the only A-levels worth doing because that's where the real cerebral work is done. He'd got himself out of poverty by doing a PhD in chemistry. Never mind that I was terrible at those subjects; I was going to do them anyway because my dad hadn't really given me any option. My brother Ivor had taken them just before me and had done badly, but Dad was determined. One of my teachers took me aside and told me, 'You're not an idiot. You're getting As for history and English, and Cs and Ds in maths and physics.' I was frightened of telling Dad. In the end, I did English, history and economics – economics was enough of a pseudoscience to keep him vaguely happy. He told me I was wasting my brain. Worst thing in the news? The technology that we have now has helped fray the truth. Truth was never completely objective, as it has been handed down by authorities over the centuries who were biased in various ways, whether it was the state or religion. The prevalence of social media has reinforced that everyone's personal truth is as important as everyone else's, and needs to be expressed. I think when the internet started, it seemed like a good platform to share knowledge and reasonable debate, which would lead to progress. But what it's done more recently is decrease the sum of truth, because it's warped truth to a mad extent that no one can say what is true and what isn't without someone bullying and humiliating them in disagreement. That in turn leads to destabilisation of countries and society, and allows people who shout the loudest to feel like they are the owners of the truth and questionable people to capitalise on insecurities and gain power. Worst pet peeve? What really annoys me is when people are seemingly passionate about something that I feel they don't really believe in or understand. It's like they're performing their opinion because it's how they think they should appear or feel about something. People are trying too hard to fall into line, without properly informing themselves. The internet has created a monster, because we're not meant to constantly air our opinions. When someone tells you you're wrong or believes differently, we don't suddenly think, 'Oh, maybe I am wrong'; rather it's, 'I've been humiliated, he's belittling my identity, and I need to fight back.' People confuse identity and opinion, which then pushes them to join every argument to which they're invited. Worst fear for the future? I'm worried about the world that my children are growing up in. Their generation has so much potential, despite the criticism they get, but everything seems so unpredictable right now. I'm also frightened of mortality, and I talk about this a lot. As a storyteller, I don't want mine to end. I love life, irrespective of how s--- things are. But my life is beset by regret because I'm constantly messing things up.
The Guardian
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Mark Humphries: ‘When did the Australian dream go from owning your own home to owning somebody else's?'
Mark Humphries has moved house five times in the past seven years. First was the place in the Sydney suburb of Turramurra he had to vacate because it was, 'forgive me for saying this – leaking like a giant breast from the ceiling'. Next came a house so damp, mushrooms began growing under the carpet; a small flat that was OK except for being utterly freezing, and another one-bedroom apartment where the rent went from $500 to $660 a week, forcing his exit. It's of no comfort to the comedian and TV presenter that he's not alone in having found it extremely difficult to secure an affordable and liveable home. 'This is the common experience,' he sighs. 'It's been extraordinary seeing everyone I know go through rental increases [over the past few years] … I feel like every one of us needs to start a GoFundMe just for our daily existence.' Housing affordability is a topic Humphries is angry about. And, perhaps ironically, that emotion can be a very useful tool for a comedian. 'I have found with a lot of my work that it's easier if you're angry about something,' he says – like, say, those political texts we all received in the lead-up to the election, or all things Mark Latham. 'Even if you're just doing comedy sketches, if you are genuinely annoyed by what has happened, you can channel that into something amusing.' Recently, Humphries has channelled his rage 'not just for myself, but everyone' over the housing crisis into a new documentary called Sold! Who Broke the Australian Dream? Out on Binge, it's a one-hour look at the problems with Australia's housing market, and how we've landed in a situation where, as he puts it in the documentary, even a 'D-grade celebrity like me can't afford a home'. We're discussing all this in the incongruous setting of a quaint cafe specialising in tea and scones – Humphries' choice of venue. This was meant to be a quick bite before a walking interview but the moment the scones hit the table, we've lost all motivation to stand up again. Humphries, he proudly tells me, eats a lot of baked goods. He even once auditioned to host The Great Australian Bake Off, a job that 'would have been heaven'. That particular gig wasn't to be, but Humphries has nonetheless carved out a very busy career on our screens, largely as the tall, blond and affable face of Australian news satire. You'd probably recognise him from appearances on programs such as SBS's The Feed and Channel Ten's The Project (the recent cancellation of which is a 'great loss' for Australian comedy, whatever you think of the show itself, he says). Unlike most comics, Humphries has never been one for standup – he has done it, he can tell me very specifically, only 12 times in his life and found each one 'immensely stressful'. In fact, he's more reserved and strait-laced than the typical comedian, deflecting attention by asking me as many questions as I ask him. Rather than seeking out the stage, Humphries spent his early years after school working at a Blockbuster video store and then a warehouse. The video store may have been every millennial's teenage dream job, but it wasn't all roses. 'I got held up at knife-point three times when I worked in a video store,' Humphries recalls. 'It was awful. I had to leave that job after the third one, because I was so affected by it.' He can still see the humour in that formative trauma – such as when he went to the police station to do an identakit after one of the robberies and described the knife-wielding assailant as 'surprisingly handsome'. Or the time his unfailing politeness kicked in as he was being held up and he asked his attacker if he'd like a bag for all that cash. Or that after he finally quit and booked a ticket to London to try and decompress, as he stepped off the tube from the airport, a fellow holidaying Australian recognised him and exclaimed 'Hey, Blockbuster Crows Nest!' But through every odd job, Humphries was quietly nursing dreams of breaking into comedy. His career eventually began 13 years ago when he called up the satirical current affairs program Hungry Beast and asked for an internship, unsure of how else to get started in the industry given 'there's no university degree in comedy'. His turn as a comic came to the surprise of those closest to him. 'I was talking about how I'd always wanted to be a comedy writer [in a recent interview] and my dad said to me, 'I spoke to your mother about how you said you'd always want to be a comedian. We were gobsmacked, because you never said anything funny to us.'' Humphries' dad, who actually does very much support his son's career, gamely appears in the new documentary – to decline him any financial assistance cobbling together a house deposit, because, as the elder Humphries puts it, 'I'm renting too.' 'We're so obsessed with property in this country, and it's become worse especially in the last 25 years, where the idea of accruing multiple properties has become something that people aspire to,' Humphries says. 'And it's a line that I use in the doco, but I think it's true – when did the Australian dream go from owning your own home to owning somebody else's?' What makes the situation harder to fix, Humphries thinks, is the fact the majority of Australians do actually own a home. 'Owners outnumber renters two to one,' he says. 'So it's very hard to get huge change on something that the majority of people benefit from. House prices going up if you own a house is great, but for everyone else, it's a nightmare. And so the challenge is, how do you get people who are benefiting from the current system to ultimately make a sacrifice for the greater good, so that we don't end up with this two-tier system of the homeowners and the renters? Which is essentially what we have, and it's only getting worse.' At this point the anger Humphries had spoken of is starting to show, tea and scone neglected as fires up and rattles off the issues with Australia's housing market. Obviously, supply is part of the housing crisis, Humphries says – so it's great that the federal government has pledged to build 1.2m new homes by 2030. 'But the issue with the supply argument is that it doesn't take into account the other part of that, which is demand. So again, if you have this system where people are able to tap into these tax incentives and buy multiple properties, increasing supply doesn't really solve that. It ends up with a whole bunch of people owning even more properties.' Humphries points out he doesn't begrudge investors for taking advantage of the tax system – 'but that system shouldn't exist'. Couldn't the government, I proffer casually while Humphries finally gets the chance to take a bite, just put a cap on the number of properties people can own? 'Humphries nods furiously as he bites through his scone,' he narrates after a pause to chew and swallow. Ultimately, he says, to fix the housing crisis we need to rid ourselves of the idea that property prices should perpetually climb higher, and allow the value of homes to become static. 'And some of these changes can be introduced incrementally. It's not about crashing the housing market.' So, I ask, does Humphries ever see home ownership in his future? 'Bizarrely, at age 39 I just bought a home – I just moved in yesterday,' he admits with the mix of sheepishness and amusement now typical to any millennial who manages to get a foot on the property ladder. 'But I maintain the rage!' He is lucky, Humphries says, to have got enough work in the last year to secure a mortgage on a two-bedroom apartment near the airport, together with his partner. The irony of having used the salary from a documentary about not being able to afford a home to buy a home is not lost on him. And he insists being a very newly minted homeowner hasn't changed his perspective on the problem at hand. 'Like, I used to work in retail, and I'm still as annoyed today about rudeness towards service workers as I was when I was in the video store,' he shrugs as we dust off the scone crumbs and wrap up our conversation so that he can head home to start unpacking boxes for what is hopefully the last time. 'I'm thrilled, obviously, to get to that next stage of my life,' he adds. 'But it's something that, growing up, I thought I would have done 10 years ago, and it just felt like the possibility of it just kept moving further and further away. And I don't go into it with the idea of, now I can't wait for this to increase in value. I haven't bought a place because I want to make money. I bought a place because I want to live in a place.' Really, he's mostly just very grateful to not have to move again anytime soon. 'I'm excited to have a bit of stability,' he says, before pausing to consider the implications of this very momentous life change. 'And just to be able to stick a nail on the wall.' Sold! Who Broke the Australian Dream? is streaming now on Binge.
BBC News
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Comedian Susan Riddell cancels Fringe show after terror charge
Comedian Susan Riddell has cancelled her Edinburgh Fringe show because she cannot travel into the city under bail conditions imposed after a van was allegedly driven into a defence factory Riddell was one of three women arrested in connection with the incident at Leonardo UK's facility on Crewe Road North last week. At a private hearing via videolink at Edinburgh Sheriff Court on Monday, she made no plea to a charge of malicious mischief, aggravated by having a "terrorist connection".Her new show How Do You Sleep at Night? had been due to run for a month at the festival, which begins next week. Ms Riddell is a regular panellist on BBC Scotland's Breaking the News and The Good, the Bad and the Unexpected, and recently presented BBC Edinburgh Unlocked. She has also written and starred in her own BBC mini-sitcom pilot an Instagram post, Ms Riddell said: "Thanks to everyone who has shared my Edinburgh fringe show but unfortunately due to bail conditions I'm barred from Edinburgh for the foreseeable so I won't be doing my show."The Glasgow-based comedian's hour-long show had a 19:15 slot at Monkey Barrel at The Tron from 28 July until 24 her bail conditions have restricted her travel into the capital. She was charged alongside Allegra Fitzherbert, 34, of London, and Naomi Stubbs-Gorman, 31, of Glasgow - all of whom made no pleas at the court hearing. Ms Riddell was also charged with an offence under the Road Traffic Act 1988 which was "aggravated by reason of having a terrorist connection".The Shut Down Leonardo campaign had said it was protesting against the company's laser targeting system, which it claims is used by the Israeli said it does not supply equipment directly to Israel and that its main customer is the UK's armed forces.
