Climb Every Mountain

Why do stand-up comedians put themselves through it?

What is it that makes someone want to get up on stage of an evening and wash their dirty linen in public, vent their spleen to a roomful of strangers, with their heart on their sleeve? It is quite odd behaviour, when you think about it.

There are probably lengthy psychological texts written about the comedian's need (and that's usually the word, rather than 'want') to get up on stage and make people laugh. Standing waiting to go and perform would, for most normal people, be the stuff of nightmares. Why take a chance on that sort of hassle, when you could just stay home and read something brilliant, or watch the next must-see streamed TV show, or have a gamble and a spin on a gambling website like Unibet Casino.

Clearly a good percentage of performers get in front of audiences as a conscious career choice, with comedy as the ultimate goal, onstage or onscreen. It's not uncommon to hear newer acts admit that they hadn't really considered trying it at all until, say, some early acting experiences proved a bit dispiriting, and the sheer independence of stand-up suddenly seemed appealing. A lot of character acts start that way.

But there are also a whole lot of comics who get up on stage because they just feel the need to, in the here and now. Some comics we can think of are very much at home on a stage; they enjoy every minute of that interaction and miss it massively during enforced breaks. Others will always be love/hate about facing different crowds every night, and need regular time away to decompress and rediscover the enthusiasm. Which is understandable.

It's a bit like mountain climbers. There are loads of fine feature films and documentaries about people all having life-or-death experiences trying to get up or down mighty peaks. Which is all very well, but the drama is often offset by one nagging question: why bother doing it in the first place? It's not like they're plunging under the sea to look for treasure, or heading into space to seek new life. You're just causing lots of stress for yourself, your loved ones and the rescue crews. Why are you up there?

And that same question can be asked of stand-ups. Obviously there are more practical reasons - making a living, making people laugh, getting political points off your chest - but a lot of it is about the sheer thrill of it. Good or bad, that adrenalin rush is a rare beast that's hard to replicate elsewhere in life.

It's also an adrenalin rush that's fairly low-risk, compared to fast cars, or pub fighting, or trying to scale a mighty peak. At least if it all goes wrong and you die a death onstage, you don't drag someone else down with you. Well, it might cause an awkward lead-in for the next act, but that's all good experience for ambitious comedians too. If you're going to be left high and dry, do it upstairs at the Dog and Duck.