An Australian comedian has penned a catchy song to remind people of the proper health and safety practices to execute during the Covid-19 pandemic. Martin Ingle, from Brisbane, Queensland, debuted his coronavirus-themed tune 'Don't
Steve Martin and Martin Short are aware that everyone adores them, but would never dare let it go to their heads. For the most part. “The worst thing a person can think about themselves is that they’re beloved,” Martin insists. “Not me!” adds Short. “Yeah, but you’re not beloved.” “Oh, I see.”Martin and Short’s friendship, full of merciless mocking and silly one-upmanship, has endured for more than 30 years. It was forged on the set of Three Amigos (1986), the zippy western in which they played, along with Chevy Chase, Hollywood stars mistaken for bona fide Mexican heroes. Their on-screen partnership was further honed in Father of the Bride (1991) and its 1995 sequel, where Short stole scenes as a flamboyant events coordinator named Franck. Today they’re regulars on the road, with their acclaimed live comedy show about to hit the UK.
Monty Python star Terry Jones has died at the age of 77. The actor and comedian, who had dementia, directed some of the comedy troupe's most-loved works, including Life Of Brian. He appeared in TV series Monty Python's Flying Circus in
Hugh Laurie has said that he and Stephen Fry have discussed resurrecting their comedy double act for the stage. The 60-year-old House star's last full project with Fry, 62, was 2010's retrospective documentary titled Fry And Laurie
The Darkness frontman Justin Hawkins is the latest celebrity to be unveiled on controversial singing competition The Masked Singer UK.Fans were stunned to see the musician unmasked after wearing a chameleon costume during the show.
Fans attending a stand-up show by Saturday Night Live cast member Pete Davidson were forced to sign non-disclosure agreements (NDA) in order to see the show - barring them from giving any interviews, opinions or critiques of the performance afterwards.The comic appeared at Sydney Goldstein Theatre in San Francisco on his latest tour stop, and fans with tickets were emailed just a few hours in advance informing them that in order to attend, they had to sign the legally binding agreement, which would leave them open to paying $1m (£770,000) in damages if broken.
Amy Schumer has had a rough pregnancy. “I throw up an Exorcist amount every day,” said Schumer, who has an extreme form of nausea and vomiting called hyperemesis. No longer seen as something vaguely unhip that gets in the way of the act and the microphone stand, a baby on the way is now a rich source of stand-up material: stretch marks, placentas and all.
Aziz Ansari was once approached by a “fan” who mistook him for fellow comedian Hasan Minhaj. When the man realised his mistake, he tried to rectify things by listing everything he knew about Ansari. On Wednesday night, in front of 3,500 people at London’s Hammersmith Apollo, the 36-year-old is animatedly re-enacting the encounter.
Since comedian Amy Schumer became pregnant, she had vomited, in her conservative estimate, 980 times. Keeping his eye on the road, Fischer calmly hands her a bag, and she lowers her face, emits a guttural sound and throws up chunks of shrimp and grits. Feigning embarrassment about a marital dispute, he motions towards me in the back seat: “We have a guest.” The car stops, Schumer, who is due in May, gets out, vomits again in front of a church, tosses the bag in a metal trash can and immediately starts joking with her husband again.
“I used to worry about interviews because of the questions I might be asked,” Ricky Gervais says, sitting down and casting that gimlet eye, the narrow stare that sees weakness like a hawk seeing mice in a field. Because regardless of the question, Gervais’s answers tend to end up in the same place: talking about offence, and freedom of speech, and how he’s not going to stop offending because he believes in freedom of speech. In full nihilistic mode Tony hits out at everyone from his father, in a care home with dementia, to his colleagues, especially Lenny (Tony Way) and his supercilious shrink played by Paul Kaye.
Bill Hicks said this in conversation with Howard Stern on the latter’s WXRK radio show in October 1993, four months before his death from pancreatic cancer at the age of 32. Such is the appetite for this moral tar-and-feathering that users were recently forced to turn to an archive Playboy interview with John Wayne from 1971, for sustenance on a rare quiet day for indignation. The Western actor’s opinions on white supremacy were as plainly racist as they come, but the news that a hard-right Republican and gung-ho advocate of the Vietnam War held objectionable views will have surprised no one with any prior knowledge of the man’s character and politics.
On a Saturday night this month in a cavernous theatre in a casino, an Aziz Ansari I had never seen before strode onstage. Wearing a black leather jacket and skinny jeans, he looked the same, but the old swagger was diminished, replaced by a certain world-weary exasperation. What went unsaid was that since the last time he toured new material, Ansari had become the high-profile subject of an internet furore himself.
William (Aneurin Barnard) is in the middle of his tenth suicide attempt. Leslie (Tom Wilkinson) is an assassin who, after a drop in demand, has pivoted his services to those who would like their own lives to be ended. There is a contract to be signed (non-refundable), in return for a promise: “dead in a week, or your money back”.
US standup comedian Maysoon Zayid likes to joke that if there were a competition called the Oppression Olympics, she would win gold. “I’m Palestinian, Muslim, I’m a woman of colour, I’m disabled,” Zayid, who has cerebral palsy, tells audiences, before pausing a beat to hang her head, her long dark hair curtaining her face, “and I live in New Jersey”. The joke lands laughs whether Zayid tells it in red states or blue, and puts people exactly where Zayid wants them: disarmed, charmed and eager for more.
In some ways, the world of Jerry Seinfeld is the same as it ever was. Bill Cosby, once one of Seinfeld’s creative heroes, was convicted of sexual assault in April and sentenced to prison in September. Roseanne Barr had her resuscitated ABC sitcom cancelled in May after she posted a racist tweet.
Louis CK performed yet another show in New York City on Monday night, telling his audience he has to stick with comedy because he needs the money. The disgraced comedian – real name Louis Székely – has been attempting a comeback after admitting last year that allegations of sexual misconduct brought against him by several women were true. Székely was standing on the stage of the Comedy Cellar, the Greenwich Village club where he has performed several times since the end of August.
David Cross began his comedy career as a standup back home in America, but it’s his role as the terminally awkward Tobias Fünke in sitcom Arrested Development which made him a star on these shores. While his UK-based black comedy series The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret was a cult hit, his latest UK show, the bigamy-themed Bliss, didn’t get a second run on Sky One. Now Cross has returned once again to his standup roots, following his popular Making America Great Again show with new tour Oh Come On. ...
Many comedians may agonise over whether to put a particular joke in their show, and quite a few of them may choose to share their doubt over it with their audience. Yet when Mat Ewins does it, you really feel for him – he doesn’t get to riff, he says, because most of what he does is based on months of meticulous video editing to create the right set-up. An Edinburgh Comedy Award nominee last year, his skill is partly presentational, with most of the comedy a result of homemade video clips and live image edits which he produces as he talks.
Playing a wreck of a man before his time is a trick which – we mean no offense here – sits well with the Black Books creator, given that his stock-in-trade is as a kind of Renaissance curmudgeon. Punch-drunk, pissed-off and sick of it all, but determined to at least wring as much black humour out of proceedings as he can, Dr. Cosmos has written a manual for life in 2018.
How far can you stretch a show about the neurotic self-indulgence which lurks at the heart of many a comedian’s work, before you’ve created a neurotic, self-indulgent show?
In recent times the truly aspirational comedian has relied not just on a handful of good jokes to get by, but some sense of narrative subversion woven within their material; that delicately balanced final rug-pull when you realise that what you’ve been listening to has been a story all along, and you’ve had a night in a theatre and a comedy club rolled into one.
This year’s show is a little bit different: a virtuoso one-man performance by Julian Spooner of Dario Fo’s 1969 play Mistero Buffo (Underbelly, until 26 August) which was denounced by the Vatican as blasphemous. In fact it’s a rather gentle retelling of traditional bible stories — Herod’s massacre of the innocents, the resurrection of Lazarus and the Wedding Feast of Cana — penned by a playwright who believed that it would be the meek — or working people — who would inherit the earth, and who put his faith in the power of the jongleur to tell us the truths we cannot bear to hear. Spooner is hugely watchable — particularly when playing a Christ recast as a populist politician — even if the show takes its time to make the point being made all over Edinburgh this summer that the truth is slippery, we are easily deceived by miracles and we shouldn’t readily believe everything we hear.
Katy Dye stands before us in school uniform channelling Britney in her “...Baby One More Time” period. In Baby Face (Summerhall, until 26 August) using only a high chair as a prop, Dye writhes, screeches and shrieks her way through a deeply uncomfortable but pointed examination of the way that women are infantilised and how they sometimes collude. Baby Face is provocative stuff, perhaps light on content but big on impact.
Despite the title of her new show, Luisa Omielan says she doesn't do politics - apparently it took her long enough to figure out the lack of difference between a Tory and a Conservative. Discussion of politics, in fact, is a penis being shoved unwanted towards her face first thing in the morning, and she has to keep finding ways of batting it aside.