Is British Comedy in Peril or Thriving Abroad?
At 33, I’ve witnessed at least six proclamations claiming British comedy is on its deathbed. However, recent studies suggest that perhaps it should be rushed to A&E with flashing lights and sirens. First, let’s explore some encouraging news. A study conducted by King’s College London indicates that young people across Europe have a strong affinity for British comedy, often deeming it far superior to its American counterpart.
As Didier, a 29-year-old from Germany, astutely notes, “Everybody knows what English humour is. It’s a very dry humour; there’s no other country that has their own humour.” Annette, a 19-year-old from the Netherlands, expressed her admiration for Diane Morgan’s brilliantly clueless cultural correspondent, Philomena Cunk, stating that British humour possesses “a smarter level of humour – more sophisticated… than American content.”
The research reveals that streaming platforms, particularly Netflix and Amazon Prime, along with clips from panel shows and sitcoms, are successfully introducing our comedic talent to audiences worldwide, endearing us to our European neighbors. Given the current geopolitical landscape, where figures like Donald Trump and JD Vance loom large, it’s crucial to foster these international relationships. Consequently, while Sir Keir Starmer may have his hands full, he has one urgent task: to commission more of Jack Rooke’s coming-of-age masterpiece, Big Boys.
We could appoint Bob Mortimer as the new Minister for Having a Laugh and distribute Derry Girls Blu-rays to the European Commission. This Brexit reset could be simpler than we think. However, before we send Kerry and Kurtan from This Country to the Élysée Palace, we must consider the other side of the coin.
In a recent report released by the Live Comedy Association and Brunel University, a first-of-its-kind survey of individuals working in the comedy scene paints a stark picture. Comedians have voiced concerns about their working conditions, citing issues like sexism, ageism, classism, racism, and disheartening pay—the average annual income for surveyed comedians sits at £26,778. One comedian lamented, “It’s getting harder to earn a living in entertainment. With the cost of living, home entertainment options, social media, and shorter attention spans, we need to rethink the entire comedy and entertainment industry.” Another comedian, Kate-Lois Elliott, highlighted the financial burden placed on performers, noting that “with travel costs and pressure to buy drinks at the bar or contribute to the bucket at the end of shows, comics are often essentially paying to perform.”
We have irrefutable evidence that our comedy serves as a vital component of our soft power, yet our grassroots comedy scene struggles to sustain those who create it. Surely, once comedians reach television, the situation improves, right? Unfortunately, that’s not the case. The statistics for last year aren’t available yet, but in 2023, commissioning across all British scripted television dropped by 18%, while new comedy shows plummeted by an astounding 41%.
The BBC, which is responsible for commissioning half of all scripted television content, greenlit 16% more crime and thriller titles compared to the previous year, but comedy commissions fell by 27%. This trend makes it clear: when budgets tighten, comedy is often the first casualty.
Moreover, the comedy shows that do get commissioned are taking an inordinate amount of time to develop. When I spoke with Kiell Smith-Bynoe, a star of Ghosts and Stath Lets Flats, last summer, he pointed out that Big Boys originated as an Edinburgh show in 2017, while Channel 4’s Big Mood took a staggering nine years to reach the screen. “It’s tough to be making things at the moment,” he remarked.
This predicament doesn’t just affect comedians. The entire British television industry is currently in turmoil. Reports from The Guardian reveal that thousands of seasoned professionals are relying on savings or resorting to entry-level jobs in retail and education to make ends meet. “Most of the industry is now unemployed,” states former Channel 4 commissioner Steven D Wright.
In 2024, it was reported that the comedy industry was valued at £1 billion a year—comparable to the UK fishing industry. Yet, while figures like Nigel Farage and Bob Geldof passionately debated fishing rights, no one seems to care about the state of comedy.
So, what can be done? Comedy is often seen as the neglected sibling in the arts family, but it’s not about elevating Stewart Lee’s routines to national monument status. It’s fundamentally about funding.
- We should be investing public resources into comedy, akin to the support afforded to dance, visual arts, or theatre.
- Big Boys owes its existence to the BFI’s Young Audiences Content Fund, which financed half of its first series, yet this fund was launched in 2019 and ceased operations in 2022.
- There are glimmers of hope, such as the Keep It Fringe fund, which grants 180 acts £2,500 each for their projects at the Edinburgh Festival, along with the BBC’s Comedy Grants scheme.
However, these initiatives alone cannot resolve the issue. Kate-Lois Elliott is among those comedians who have noted that Arts Council England (ACE) funding is often inaccessible to comedians. Yet, an Arts Council spokesperson clarified, “We offer regular and project-based funding to organizations that support the production and performance of comedy and encourage applications from comedy venues, performers, festivals, and producers.” This is promising, but it seems the message hasn’t reached many comedians or comedy clubs.
A review of the over 800 individuals awarded grants from the Developing Your Creative Practice fund reveals few, if any, comedians. While the funded projects encompass a diverse range of art forms—animation, radical theatre, ceramics, and more—none of them pertain to the comedy sector. Although ACE funding does reach venues that host comedy, they typically also offer a plethora of other performances. A government-backed initiative dedicated specifically to bolstering comedy—encompassing venues, performers, writers, and production companies—could be part of the solution.
If current trends continue, we could face a future where independent comedy venues close, making comedy an exclusive pursuit for the affluent, while the youth of Europe learn English through reruns of The Big Bang Theory. And that is a scenario that surely lacks laughter.
