The tight-knit comedy circuit
One unique thing about the UK comedy scene is the community feel of it all. Forget the old idea that everybody on the circuit is horribly jealous of everybody else: actually the vast majority of comics share a combined envy of just a few bewilderingly-successful contemporaries. Bitterness is a great leveller.
Seriously though, it is amazing how many comedians seem to know loads about each other, given the sheer numbers of acts there are in the UK these days. You don't realise the full girth of the industry until you pick up, say, the hefty Leicester Comedy Festival 2023 programme, then look at the Edinburgh Fringe comedy section. The ups and downs of festivals like those, and sharing great and grim green rooms up and down the country, certainly brings people together.
Word travels fast among that community about dodgy promoters, clubs, acts and otherwise. We wouldn't be surprised if there's a secret website somewhere that ranks the best comedy clubs to headline at, or to compere, or to go on first and get away from quickly because of the gamble of getting stuck in traffic jams. The industry could certainly do with a TripAdvisor-style ratings website from the audience point-of-view too. In the world of gambling for example, casinos.com is being launched to act as a guide to the best legal and trusted online casino brands. That website will be reviewing the best games, slots and casino promotions in an aim to give those looking to gamble online pointers on where best to place their money in an attempt to win big. A similar venue and promoter comparison and review site would be great in the world of comedy?
A while back, one comic was posting on social media about attending the Comedians' Christmas Party, an annual event in which a bunch of self-employed comics who wouldn't normally get an office party get together, but in January. That's because a lot of comedians have to spend much of the festive season trying - and invariably struggling - to enliven other people's Christmas parties. We imagine that January bash is absolutely awash with horror stories from those 'festive' gigs, like a bunch of Vietnam veterans meeting up to try to make sense of what the hell happened out there, man.
Indeed, several acts have suggested over the years that comedians can only really be friends with other comedians. Something about the abrasive offstage sense of humour, the awkward hours, the wild ups and crazy downs - not many people from other professions can relate to that. Doctors, maybe. It's no wonder medical types often turn out to be darn good comics.
Of course, comedians do fall out. Sometimes they go out with each other, then break up with each other and end up sharing those experiences on stage; often at the same festival. Which can be difficult, but does at least offer up the potential of some useful Blur vs Oasis-style publicity off the back of it. Roll with it, as the great philosopher Liam Gallagher once famously sang.
Sharing a flat in Edinburgh for almost a month often frays nerves too; work opportunities can go wrong and sour friendships, while political differences frequently raise temperatures, particularly right now. And on rare occasions comics really disgrace themselves, and are cast out of the community altogether.
But generally speaking, these stories will stay in-house, like a secretive cult, or a football dressing room. Unless you're in the inner sanctum - the WhatsApp group - you'll never hear about it. What happens backstage stays backstage. Unless they talk about it onstage, of course.