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It's getting like you can't trust stuff written on murderer's bullets any more.
Into London today to record three Book Clubs at the Podcast Room and then hang around for five hours so I could go and see future guest Sam Nicoresti at the Soho Theatre. I did a couple of my shows at this excellent venue around about a quarter of a century ago, before most of the young staff of this place were born and when the comic I was coming to see was in primary school.
I felt quite old and didn't understand some of the young person references, but loads of good jokes, beautiful and carefully chosen language and hilarious stories. Although Sam's life is quite different to mine (Sam is a trans woman and obsessed with skirt suits - my last show at this theatre was a celebration of cocks!), I don't think you have to live the same life to appreciate anyone's comedy. What I love about comedy is not recognition (though hopefully it helps us recognise the humanity in everyone) but getting to hear different points of view from people with different experiences to me.
There are so many comedians doing boring/dangerous takes on Trans issues (I thought the greatest crime a comedian can commit is to be hack, but perhaps a greater crime is to find yourself basically doing the same material as Piers Morgan), but someone with any lived experience is able to explain the pain that others can cause them, but also has awareness of the comedy that comes out of it. Sam has a great routine about her pride and another's prejudice, forcing her into a dress that does not suit her and that she can't get out of. It's a triumph and disaster all in one, just like your own stupid life.
Listening to someone else giving an honest assessment of their life for an hour makes it very hard not to come out with a better understanding. Spending this time in the Soho Theatre basement with Sam and her audience certainly makes the idea that the trans community are a threat seem entirely ridiculous. When discussing choosing a new name one audience member rejected adding an H into the name they'd chosen, Rori, because they weren't Scottish and that would be cultural appropriation. If you've got to the point where you're worried that you might upset a Scottish person, with a single letter, then you're really not going to much of a danger to anyone. Sweet, faintly silly, not someone I am afraid of.
Like most nearly 60 year olds I am rightly confused by some of the things that nearly 30 year olds want to do. You can choose to insist that you are right about everything (like the wrong-headed 60 year olds did when we were 30) or try to listen or understand. Or, you know, just mind your own business and let them get on with it. If you're right, they'll find out soon enough.
There's a bit of discussion about polyamory and I am of course both jealous that that wasn't a thing when I was younger and also dubious about whether it can actually work. But it's literally none of my business, however much I wish it was.
I hope my mind can stay open and my views stay flexible as I grow older. I hope I won't feel challenged by someone having a different lifestyle choice to my own.
I mainly hope I don't ever do a joke that Piers Morgan has already done.
Anyway, as much as Sam's comedy might change some minds if you only the people who will never see it saw it, it's probably more important that it lets the audience who do come know that they are not alone.
Just like my comedy lets lonely bearded nerds who work in IT know that they are not alone. Or would do if I ever got a big enough audience. Sorry for confirming your suspicions.
The world is going down the shitter and we're all fucked and I know that divisions are only getting deeper. Comedy can move the needle in both directions, sadly.
