Joe Lycett: ‘Every year I get more of an understanding of what I need to be happy’
My mum worked at the Cadbury factory. One perk of the job was an onsite shop where you could buy the chocolate that hadn’t come out quite right, and occasionally she’d arrive home with a heavenly bag of wonky Creme Eggs.
Brummies have adopted the sense that we live in a shit-hole, but in terms of green space, culture and community, it’s unrivalled. It’s a calm and happy place; my heart rate drops when I get off the train from London. I say, kind of with tongue in cheek, but not that far in my cheek, that it’s the best city in the world.
Between school and university I was a swimming instructor in a local leisure centre. I hated it. I’m an excellent swimmer; I can do a mile in under half an hour, which I’m chuffed about. Team GB swimmer Oliver Morgan uses the same pool as me, so he obviously absorbed some of my skill.
Every year I get more of an understanding of what I need to be happy. If I haven’t slept enough, or if I haven’t exercised, I’m more likely to be in a bad mood. My silly brain will think it’s because I haven’t written a good joke that day, but actually I’m just tired or I need a poo.
I love going to the tip. A friend reassured me once that if I ever get cancelled, I’ll still have the tip, and she was absolutely right. Even Britney Spears has the tip! It’s never going anywhere, and that’s a nice thought.
Having a baby has unlocked an obsession with washing. Every time there’s a nappy leak I get a dopamine spike. I’ve been buying the pellets that make everything smell nice so the whole house whiffs like a laundrette. My new tumble dryer is my favourite thing I’ve ever bought, although I cannot be bothered with reading labels and have easily ruined most of my knitted garments.
I’d have been curious to experience New York in the 70s. Fran Lebowitz is wonderful, so I’d channel her, writing jokes about Andy Warhol, puncturing the zeitgeist. My guess is that we look at previous eras through rose-tinted glasses, but I’m not sure there’s been a golden age for humans. We’ve always done the same old bit, haven’t we?
On Late Night Lycett we have a trainee scheme, which means we have people in wheelchairs working on the studio floor. You don’t see that a lot. It’s been a delight to see them flourish and get other work in the industry. I’m very proud of it.
Years ago I was on a comedy programme with Tinie Tempah and the producers tried to embarrass him with old footage of him rapping from when he first started out. His reaction was brilliant: “It’s all part of the process.” That idea of being creative without regrets has always stuck with me.
There are jokes I’ve written in the past that I wouldn’t do now. One about fat-shaming was structurally very nice, but then I was fat-shamed myself and saw how my words might hurt people. I think it’s good to learn and to change your opinions.
Someone once asked me if I miss standup comedy being racist and homophobic. Comedians can say whatever they want unless they’re inciting hatred, but it doesn’t mean they can’t be criticised for it. We live in a world where people will speak out if they don’t think something is cool.
If the jokes are well written, I think appalling subjects can be funny, but there’s bad comedy out there from people who should know better.
“God, he was so handsome, wasn’t he?” That’s how I’d like to be remembered. “World-renowned, gorgeous comedian” is how the obituary will start, I’m sure.
Joe Lycett’s Art Hole is published by Orion at £35 and on audiobook from Trapeze. Buy it for £31.50 at guardianbookshop.com
