Comedy news: Such Small Portions's blog

By Tim Clark, Editor, Such Small Portions

Jon Richardson didn’t have his dinner last night. The gig that booked him had promised something ‘on the house’ and, hoping to cash in on the complimentary buffet, he headed off with a grumbling stomach only to find himself unrewarded. His guest Tim Key however was last night relishing his entrée at a Spanish-style dinner party.

It is small anecdote as Richardson introduces the Edinbugh Fringe Award winning poet to his Sunday morning radio show and, with gastronomic thoughts occupying their mind, they quickly move onto what it would be like to live with Little Chef.

This is no comedy radio station however, it’s BBC 6 Music; a station which is regularly praised for it’s musical output but also has a healthy comedy offering, one which is as important and under-appreciated as the station itself.

For anyone who missed the news on Friday, according to an article published in The Times (whose owner Rupert Murdoch has never been a fan of the BBC) 6 Music may soon be closed down in a wide-ranging revamp of the services the corporation offers. 

Among many of the criticisms of 6Music is the fact that it only reaches 1 per cent of the UK population – and that only 20 per cent know of it’s existence. This argument however has been countered in other places (read more here…), but what is key to the argument for me is the type content that BBC 6Music delivers and specifically what it provides to the comedy world that is not found anywhere else.

As a listener, apart from the fact that the station is presented by some of the stalwarts of modern British music such as Jarvis Cocker I am always pleasantly surprised by the subtle way that 6 Music allow room for arts or comedy coverage to be given air time. 

Whether it is listening to Robin Ince talking about his record collection or the newly crowned Hackney Empire New Act winners Abandoman doing a weekly improvised rap, BBC 6 Music provides a rare glimpse into the workings of the comedy world. As Guardian writer Johnny Dee points out in his blog, as well as Phill Jupitus, Russell Brand, Dave Gorman, Stephen Merchant and Sean Hughes have all clocked up time on the station while Jon Richardson, Richard Herring and the much-loved Adam and Joe have found a natural home on 6 Music.

Such Small Portions contacted Phill Jupitus, who launched BBC 6 Music in 2002 as the breakfast show presenter and worked on the station for five years to ask how the station lends itself as a comedy platform:

“I think the appeal of 6 Music from a comedy point of view is that you get to hear comics being funny at their own pace rather than in a gig setting.” Jupitus said.

“This kind of show was pioneered by GLR in the nineties by Mark Lamarr who would get guests in and keep them in for entire shows rather than just to do their plugging for 20 minutes then fuck off.

“This way ideas have time to expand and grow naturally. Jon Richardson is a current favourite.”

Taking Richardson (who is soon set to leave the station to concentrate on his stand-up career) as an example, his show this morning alone had Tim Key, Phil Nichol, Josie Long Matt Ford and Richardson himself on air.

You have to ask yourself, where would I hear this kind of freestyle comedy output?  Comedy on many other BBC channels is set in a format that doesn't allow for a free dialogue and discussion that you find on 6 Music. 6 Music allows you a glimpse of the workings behind the comedy routines, not the finished product.

There are other stations which do similar things but they are few and far between. There is the excellent arts radio station Resonance FM of course, but what 6 Music does is provide a national platform for specialist style of radio content to be aired. And it works. 

“As time went on at 6 we dropped the more obviously comedy features on the breakfast show. It just started to feel a bit needy somehow.” Jupitus added. “I prefer that if something funny does happen, then it does so naturally. I'm not the biggest fan of forced comedy radio. Sometimes it sounds great but more often than not it sounds like it’s trying too hard.”

"Also, the fact that the listeners were a bit more quirky meant that your ideas would get more traction. The listeners to the breakfast show regularly sent in really genuinely funny emails. 6 Music listeners are a bright and enthusiastic bunch."

At an annual cost of £6million the station is relatively cheap considering what it produces. It provides the quality that the BBC is purportedly looking for in its future output. BBC 6 Music also explores areas which other BBC radio stations do not / are not able to delve into.

I am left with a suspicion that the BBC is cutting its losses operations which attract regular criticism. But before it does take the axe to any part of its service the BBC should first consider whether commercial stations would fill the gap left.

I have only covered the comedy side of 6 Music here but, in general, to say that the station ‘serves a minority audience’ is simply ignorant of the nuances of modern British culture – and the subsequent furious reaction to the rumours of the stations closure will hopefully give the BBC’s management a wake up call that it needed.

Phill Jupitus also wrote a piece in the Guardian regarding 6 Music. Read it here.

By Frisky and Mannish, Sydney, Feb 22, 2010

Greetings! So, basically, we’re on the other side of the world. We arrived on Saturday to ridiculous amounts of UV and heat, and bodyclocks seemingly set to ‘random shuffle’. Which, coming from the snow, ice and cabaret dens of London, wasn’t so much of a shock to the system as an assault upon our poor, underexposed skin. Even factor 50 barely keeps off the freckles and sunburn. Bad times.

But we’re here, safe and finally readjusted, and the reason we are here is to do a show. Our show. The show we did in Edinburgh this year – Frisky and Mannish’s School of Pop. The Edinburgh run was quite the rollercoaster for us, from the highs of the great reviews and packed houses, to the lows of swine-flu and cancellations.

But one of the many glorious upshots of the whole shebang was being picked up by Christian Knowles of CKP to tour our show round the UK and Singapore, and festivals such as New Zealand International Arts Festival and Melbourne Comedy Festival. Oh, and also the Sydney Opera House. Which is where we are right this very moment.

We’ve had quite a few “pinch yourself” moments since we got here: not least making our way to the Opera House, as so many tourists do, to look at the amazing building itself, only to find OUR POSTER IN THE FOYER! We hadn’t even seen the artwork at that point, and nearly fell over. The following day we had some press to do (darling), which included a photoshoot on the iconic steps up to the Op House.

Looking back through arty shots of yourself trying to look ‘fierce’ and smizing desperately (if that makes no sense to you, you need to watch more America’s Next Top Model) with the big white fins jutting out behind your ears, is quite the moment. As is the bemused faces of retired couples from all corners of the world, watching a PVC-corset-and-legging-clad neo-cabaret duo melting in the midday sun.

But to the business of the show! Now, we aren’t the retiring kind, who would ask for nothing more than a microphone and a follow-stop. Oh no. We have approximately 250 lighting cues in our hour-long show.

That’s a lot. And unfortunately we weren’t able to bring our lighting designer with us (one day… and next time with the masseuse, assistant, and milliner to boot). So the team and the ol’ Oppy-Hizzle were quietly crapping themselves and simultaneously trying to work out which cues we wouldn’t notice the lack of… But after a long long day of teching, we finally set out to do our first preview…

At this point I should also explain, to those who know nothing of our work, what it is that we do. We take pop songs, and do all manner of things to them – from mashing and medleying, to reworking and resizing. But all towards the principal aim of revealing how the song works, and what is going on behind the funky beats and earnest belting.

We are also from England, born and raised, and so our frames of reference are predominantly from the cultural experience of our country in the late 80s, mid-90s through to the 00s.

We’re in Australia. Yes, it is English-speaking, and yes, we do share much in the way of tasteless pop and American-invasion. But there are distinct differences. This is a rock-loving nation. The big news of the last couple of days has been the AC/DC tour.

The people like meat and beer and cricket. But luckily, there are gays. And it would also seem that almost everyone between the ages of 23-40 in Sydney have spent at least a year in London. So there’s even hope for our reworking of Girls Aloud…

So we were more than a little nervous about putting our work in front of the Aussies (even with a few tailor-made references – i.e. ‘Dancing With The Stars’ rather than Strictly, boyband Human Nature, rather than All Saints). But thank the heavens we had an audience like a well-crisped, gamey old bird – warm, forgiving and well up for anything.

We came off hyped as all hell, and immediately cracked open the fizz. But as the bubbles played about our excitable insides, we were realising that our concessions to the Oz audience had not only broken the flow of the show, but hadn’t been all that appreciated. We were pleasantly surprised that all the musical numbers seemed to hit the target, but we needed to go back to the drawing board with the skits.

So the following day was a day of rewrites, and trying, after going through version after version, to actually work out which combination of lines would go into the show, and even just a matter of hours before the show adding in a whole new ridiculous dance piece involving a flip flop and some booty-shaking.

In fact, it was during the rehearsal of said booty-shaking that we endured one of the more humbling moments in our time here. The stage was lit for the afternoon as they ran through cues, but we were still in civvies just working out moves and staging.

We couldn’t really be heard, just seen like rabbits in headlights. The style of the new dance was very much in the spirit of early-00s rap videos: so, a ho working some ass, while insouciant rapper flails arms with an air of “I’m gon’ tap that”, or similar.

As we were working through this, deciding between the booty-pop or the ass-shimmy, we became aware of some rather refined but hushed speaking. And as we looked up into the dim balcony spotted a gaggle of aforementioned retired couples in slacks looking on in absolute horror, with a tour guide with her back to us, clearly oblivious to the fact she had brought her entire tour group into our rehearsal.

I’m fairly certain they didn’t expect to see a white-haired, slender boy making like Fiddy, with a red-haired harlot shaking her junk and/or goodies up in his grill, while on a tour of the Sydney Opera House.

The pert cries of “Well, really!” and “I mean, I support the arts, but I really don’t think this is appropriate…” as they left, filled us with a strange mix of giggling embarrassment and sincere pride that we were the sole purveyors of the bump-and-grind within such a bastion of culture and the arts.

With just moments to go before the official Press Night, Frisky stole Mannish’s sunglasses for her Lady Gaga, and we were set to go.

And it went. We don’t know yet what the press made of it, but they all stayed for drinks and snacks after the show, and one or two tried to pick us up, so we’re hopeful it went well. We had an absolute BALL, and are in fact still recovering as we write.

The audience cheered long and loud, and there were definitely some Brits in to keep the night moving.

God bless the United Kingdom, and all who leave to come to sunnier climes, but also God bless those wonderful fun-loving Aussies who showed no fear in the face of glitter and pop.

Want to know more about Frisky and Mannish? We bet you do, so check out their website: www.friskyandmannish.co.uk

By Andrew Mickel, Such Small Portions

NURSE JACKIE FINISHES: NATION GOES OFF MEDS
BBC2, Monday, 10pm
Ah, the life of a channel scheduler. What larks! Take Nurse Jackie: it was stripped across one week at the beginning of the year every night at 10pm, before spontaneously shifting to once a week on a Monday.

Not that the viewing public seemed plussed one way or another, as the show started with a tad over a million viewers, before gently drifting into the not-exactly-great six-figure territory.

That's a shame, as it is good Monday fodder: it's just by-the-numbers enough not to make you think at the beginning of the week, while just-about-original enough to make you keep watching.
So how can the viewing public be made to care about Nurse Jackie?

HOW TO MAKE THE VIEWING PUBLIC CARE ABOUT NURSE JACKIE

Make Jackie actually quite good at her job.
The show goes to great lengths to tell us how great Jackie is at her job, while gently ignoring the fact that she breezes off for long restaurant lunches; at least once an episode has some sort of major fuck-up; and has at no point been particularly good at anything clinical. She's also not the most empathetic character on the world. Why not actually make her good at her job?

What we're basically asking for here is something more like Abby from ER, but with gags. Abby!, it could be called.

More of the posh British doctor, please
Where has Eve Best been hiding all these years? Well, the theatre, mainly, while also serving tours of duty through Waking the Dead and Inspector Lynley, according to (research quality alert) Wikipedia. Dr O'Hara only gets a few lines per episode but it always nicely contrasts her high living with Jackie's farcical job/family/affair arrangement. Watching her laugh herself silly at Dr Cooper's advances on Jackie remains the highlight of the series.

Axe the right characters
Mo-Mo, a gay nurse of the finger-snapping variety, has been axed for the second series. While not exactly the most complex character ever created, it seems a shame to shelve him while keeping the hospital administrator Mrs Akalitus. She's in charge of an American hospital, and often puts profits ahead of patient's interests! Wow, that's some deep stuff right there.

Make Dr Cooper take his clothes off
Fairly self-explanatory, that one.

SOME THOUGHTS ON THE BUBBLE
BBC Two, Fridays, 10pm

The Bubble is one of those shows that sounds like a great idea in principle – lock three celebrities away without news for four days, and then make them guess which of a series of faked and real news reports actually happened – but that loses something in the delivery.

The big problem is that the news stories here are too daft to care about. Big Daddy's ghost haunting York; Thomas the Tank Engine gets a gay character; some guff about Mumsnet. They would once upon a time have been called 'And Finally' stories, before they started making up so much of the average ITV News bulletin that it stopped being a meaningful term.

So why can't real news stories be used? Taking the top stories on BBC News right now, there are pretty good reasons.

Too sad/'real'.

Too boring.

Too implausible. (Although there's definitely a joke in there where we can pretend that Mandelson is supporting Chris Brown's post-Rhianna career rehabilitation, we're just not sure how.)

Still, this is a show with David Mitchell, and for the first episode, Victoria Coren, which pretty much guarantees every under-40 with a humanities degree will have tuned in. Indeed, the show seems to get by on the fact that having locked some well-chosen comedians together for several days, there's a vague sort of camaraderie about the whole thing.

We just need to see an episode where Marcus Brigstocke is shown footage of a major terrorist atrocity and then has to work out whether or not he should make jokes about it.

Andrew Mickel