Sarah Millican--The Queen of Comedy

by Tina Campanella

  It may have been an unusual topic of conversation, but what the audience didn’t realise was that they were getting an early glimpse of Millican’s unique and infectious comedy style. She is always very personal, almost to the point of over exposing herself. It’s interesting to note that even on such a highbrow comedy show she didn’t try to be anything other than herself.

  The other panellists gently teased the newbie. Ian Hislop leaned over conspiratorially and told her in a slightly condescending manner: ‘The main thing is, don’t go to the toilet in the middle of the show…’ Sarah was unfazed. She pointed to her chair and shot back: ‘But can I do it here though?’

  The audience chuckled, as Ian began to tell a story about one infamous panellist who had left the studio during filming – to go to the toilet. ‘We had Russell Brand on…’

  ‘…Never mind,’ Sarah cut in, making the crowd laugh once more.

  Next, they discussed the police force’s response to burglary and once again Sarah had a tale to tell. She’d had the unpleasant experience of being burgled and told the rest of the panel that at the time she couldn’t get an officer to come and take her statement.

  ‘Not even one?’ asked Ian.

  ‘No,’ she said deadpan. ‘It’s true.’

  She was silent for a moment – a deliberate pause designed to make the audience feel sorry for her, before she added: ‘I left my door open, so, it’s not really technically burglary. It’s just somebody trying doors.’

  Andy Hamilton tried to get some sense out of the funny story, by asking: ‘So what offence did they say it was, Sarah, if it wasn’t burglary, because someone stole your stuff, presumably?’

  ‘Yeah but it was mostly rubbish,’ she quipped. ‘And the insurance still went through – hurray!’

  She told the story with a wide-eyed innocence, and everyone listened intently before bursting into laughter. It was another example of her comedy technique – eliciting sympathy from the audience with a sorry story, before ending on a gag.

  But David Mitchell pushed her further: ‘So you left your door open, and all the rubbish went?’ ‘Yes,’ Sarah laughed. ‘It was obviously just the bin men, wasn’t it…’

  Sarah was a welcome female antidote to the otherwise all-male panellist line-up, and she gave a great account of herself on the show. She even found herself on the winning team.

  After a well-earned Christmas break, Sarah could reflect on 2008 as being a very good year. Being awarded Best Newcomer at Edinburgh, live TV appearances and guest spots on some of Britain’s most popular panel shows – she could never have imagined the exciting direction her new hobby would take her when she first signed up to that small Newcastle comedy workshop in 2004.

  But now she was planning to return to Edinburgh as an established comedian – would her second show be as popular as her first?

  CHAPTER 10

  Sarah Goes Down Under

  ‘People always ask if work has taken me to places I’d not otherwise have visited, and I say, “Yes, I would not otherwise have been to Lincoln or Nottingham”. It’s taken me to Australia, too, somewhere I’d always wanted to go, but felt was too far to visit without a mission. My mission was the Melbourne Comedy Festival.’

  By the time 2009 arrived, Sarah’s schedule was jam-packed. She had spent months working on the material for her new show, which she was looking forward to performing during her 25 new Fringe dates in August.

  She wanted her second show to be more mature, and to show a definite development in her work. To that end, she had avoided most of the references to her failed marriage that had dominated her debut, and instead was concentrating on the differences between the sexes. She was at home with the new content, in which she had decided to attempt to rebrand what people see as ‘typical’ male and female traits.

  It was an ambitious project and very culturally relevant. As a newly successful female in what is still perceived as a very male-dominated area, she now had a voice and she wanted to use it.

  But the main point of the show was that it had to be funny, so Sarah began to road test her new show – literally. Over the next few months she did an incredible 27 preview shows all over the country. She analysed her audience’s response closely, and discarded any bits that she felt they didn’t particularly like. She moved her jokes around and chose which ones she wanted to start and finish with. It was a huge amount of work but she undertook it with her usual diligence and focus.

  Then, in April she flew to Australia. She had been invited to perform at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival – one of the three largest comedy gatherings in the world, alongside the Edinburgh Fringe and Canada’s Just For Laughs.

  News of her Fringe success had travelled across the world and the Aussies were keen to experience the sweet-voiced Geordie’s award-winning brand of mumsie filth. It was also the perfect opportunity to test out her new material on a completely different audience.

  She wasn’t the only Brit on the roster, and as a result was in good company for the long trip. Sarah found herself staying in the same hotel as Tim Vine, Josie Long and Sadie Hasler – and hung out with them during her Down Under down time.

  Sarah had arrived a few days before the festival was due to start and was almost immediately whisked away to her very first movie premiere – for the comedy The Boat That Rocked. She got ready in her hotel room with Sadie and Josie, and put her iTunes on shuffle so that the girls could have a bit of music while they glammed themselves up.

  Sarah was worried about what embarrassing music was hiding in her collection, so she positioned herself close to the laptop so she could skip any cheesy tracks. But… ‘As soon as I had popped into the bedroom to put my dress on, Josie was all over it and Beyonce’s Single Ladies kicked in,’ she wrote on her blog. ‘I hate everything it stands for but damn, it’s catchy.’

  Sarah was having fun with her girly pals, and was excited about being in Australia. But she had never been to a red carpet event before and despite the hype, she found it boring. ‘The paparazzi were surprisingly uninterested apart from a tiny boy who interviewed us… about the festival. The next hour-and-a-half were like a socially awkward version of getting to the pictures too early. You can’t get the popcorn yet as you will have eaten it, you can’t go for a wee as you’ll just need another. The canapes were all a bit posh for me and as I don’t drink, I got increasingly more bored. But luckily so did everyone else.’

  It was refreshing to read that Sarah’s new fame hadn’t changed her one bit. Going to posh dos and standing around for the paps wasn’t something she had ever aspired to – and she wasn’t a big fan of it now that it was being thrust upon her.

  The next day, Sarah did the obligatory promotional rounds, going on radio shows and speaking to journalists to drum up interest in her shows. She also did some shopping and made a list of the comics she planned to see while she was at the festival. She ate out at a fancy restaurant, where she chose food from a menu she barely understood. ‘And it was in English,’ she moaned. ‘What’s the matter with sausage and mash?’

  She couldn’t shake a headache that had been brewing all day, which she put down to the worry she was feeling about her first Melbourne gig, taking place the following day.

  She had grown pensive about her appearance, and decided to get her hair cut. The shorter style suited her, but the effect on her appearance apparently wasn’t enough and she began to think about dyeing her hair too, amongst other possible changes. ‘I am currently unhappy with my physical appearance,’ she wrote. ‘A haircut has sorted out my head and when I get home exercise and less cake will hopefully sort out the rest.’

  It was only natural that being so far away from her family and friends she would grow a little insecure and thoughtful, especially since she was growing more nervous about her forthcoming shows. Plus, she admitted she’d watched an episode of The Biggest Loser and had been amazed at the contestants’ transformations – a guaranteed way to make yourself feel a little less confiden
t about your appearance…

  The next day Sarah got on stage in front of her first Australian audience – totalling 24 paying guests. She was a little disappointed overall, but tried not to dwell on it. ‘First show, settling in, good but not great,’ she wrote. ‘New reference tweaks seemed to work, a few jokes just didn’t work and I think they found me a bit rude.’

  The next day she chatted to some of her fellow comics and found they’d had a similar experience. She felt a little more confident, especially when she found her audience had tripled for the night. ‘Went in with renewed vigour and, largely due to a brilliant chat with an hilarious man in the front row, the show really took off. Loved it. A man confessed to once eating a raw egg off his girlfriend’s bellybutton.’

  It was at this stage that Sarah began the practice of counting badges to ascertain her popularity. At the end of her Edinburgh shows, Sarah had handed out promo badges to her fans at a rate of around 50 per night. ‘I think it’s a good sign if a lot of people take badges as I don’t think I’d take a badge for a show I didn’t like,’ she wrote. That night in Australia she handed out 89 badges and was rightly pleased.

  Then came press night – the night when all the reviewers and journalists came to see the show for their articles and blogs. Sarah knew she would have to be on top form and heaved a huge sigh of relief when she began to hear the huge guffaws from the audience. ‘Went really well,’ she wrote. ‘Will keep my fingers crossed for a nice review from someone which will help sell tickets. Enjoyed the show very much. 88 badges taken. Cool.’

  After the show had finished, Sarah decided to treat herself to a comedy show. But when she got outside she found herself overwhelmed by the huge numbers of festival goers (ironically, she’s not good in crowds) and so she went to the cinema instead. It was a good choice and boosted her spirits. ‘I saw Monsters vs Aliens, complete with 3D glasses and popcorn. I felt like a Normal. Normals go to the cinema on a Saturday don’t they? The film was ace and is genuinely funny.’

  Sarah needn’t have worried about press night -– the reviews were great. Comedy critic Lisa Clark highly recommended the show, and wrote: ‘It was like spending an hour with your favourite filthy aunty. She appears so homely, sweet and non-threatening… There was actually very little innuendo in the show, because Sarah is not afraid to call a spade, a huge dildo. In fact one of the topics she covered was the names we use to refer to our “privates”. She did require some audience participation, but she was very nice about it. She was so open and down-to-earth, she actually made you feel comfortable about the sexual nature of most of her material.’

  It was a long stint down under – 26 days – and as well as performing herself, Sarah saw a lot of excellent comedians. ‘Tonight I saw Mary and Max and it was lovely and made me happy,’ she wrote on her blog. ‘Last night I saw Adam Hills’s show Inflatable and it “inflated” me. I want to tell Janeane Garofalo how ace I think her show is without sounding like a weirdo.’

  She also spent more time with comedian Tim Vine, who she described as a legend. ‘We were talking about what you should and shouldn’t eat on Good Friday. And Tim stood up and said, “I think you’ll find our Lord prefers something Savioury” and sat back down…’

  But she also watched a lot of television – ‘I watched a bit of Pink Panther with Steve Martin… and it made me want to cut out my eyes’ – and had a lot of time to think. She grew more reflective and shared her thoughts with her fans.

  ‘I’ve discovered the following things,’ she wrote. ‘Drinking loads of water is a better cure for my headaches than Nurofen ever was. I have no fears. Around a table with six other comics the other night, we all started to talk about our fears and I realised I don’t have any. It was quite a surprise. I used to be scared of spiders, enclosed spaces, dentists, loads of things. I don’t think I have any irrational fear. I still can’t quite believe it. Australians love a bloody badge. I am running low. My new material for my new show is working (thank God). I am broody. For a tiny baby koala of my own.’

  Sarah loved Melbourne but she really missed her family and her boyfriend. She kept in touch via Skype but sometimes it wasn’t enough and she found herself feeling very down.

  During one Skype session, she said to Gary, sadly: ‘You’re too far away…’

  Her boyfriend misunderstood and moved the webcam closer to his face. It made Sarah laugh and she immediately saved the moment in her memory – it was great comedy material.

  But despite the difficulties of being apart from her loved ones, her first Australian festival was a success. ‘Shows are going well,’ she wrote half way through the month. ‘Of course, there’s the odd hard one but that only makes me normal. Tickets are selling well, selling out most nights.’

  When she flew home at the end of the stint, Sarah must have been very proud of herself – she had sold out her show most nights, got some brilliant reviews and eventually been nominated for the festival’s Barry Award.

  Australia loved her so much that she was invited back the next year. Sarah was on a roll.

  CHAPTER 11

  Preparing For Typical Woman

  ‘My nickname is the cake pigeon. Whenever I press myself against a cake shop, I go: “Oooh”.’

  Sarah was glad to be back home after her epic overseas adventure. She still had a lot of work to do on her new show and just a few short months to prepare for her second Edinburgh Fringe.

  But on her birthday in May, Sarah found herself travelling again – this time to Ireland, for the Kilkenny Comedy Festival. It was another chance to test out her new show material, and local reporters were keen to find out how she was feeling about the upcoming Fringe. ‘Having got divorced for the last one, I can’t really generate a massive life trauma again,’ she told them, before joking: ‘I’ll just have an abortion this time, it’ll be fine.’

  Sarah was also asked what she thought about the perceived notion that it is tougher for women to succeed in comedy and made her thoughts very clear on the matter. ‘There are a million reasons why I might not do well at a gig. But none of them are because I’m a woman. In a way, it’s slightly easier for girls because we stand out. I’m doing a gig tonight with three blokes and they’ve all got to establish themselves as ‘the guy that does one-liners’, ‘the guy that does surreal stuff’, whereas I can just be a woman and I’m automatically different.’

  It was a thoughtful answer to a very interesting question. And it wouldn’t be the last time Sarah was asked her thoughts on the subject…

  When the summer months arrived, Sarah was ready for Edinburgh. But first she had another exciting TV project to work on – with Britain’s top-earning comic Michael McIntyre.

  Like Sarah, McIntyre had also won a Fringe Best Newcomer Award – five years earlier than her, in 2003. But unlike Sarah, Michael had a solid background in comedy. His father, Ray Cameron, was one of the late Kenny Everett’s scriptwriters, while his mother Kati used to dance on his self-titled show.

  Despite his Edinburgh win, it had taken years for McIntyre to climb to the top of the British comedy scene – years in which he struggled to make ends meet by doing small improv gigs all over the country.

  Sadly, his early shows weren’t as well-received as Sarah’s. ‘In the early days, I’d travel miles to a show, then stand up telling unscripted off-the-cuff jokes in front of people who didn’t get them. Life doesn’t get much worse than being humiliated like that,’ he told The Daily Mail in November 2012. ‘I’d drive home, thinking: “I stand there talking rubbish, people think it’s rubbish, I have no qualifications, but this is all I’ve got.” It was 2003 and I had absolutely nothing else.’

  His career stalling, McIntyre had fallen heavily into debt – a common trap for performers who have no other income. He knew something had to change. But much like when Sarah’s husband left her, there had to be a trigger.

  Eventually he found the extra drive he needed, inspired by his wife Kitty and the birth of their first son, Lucas. ‘I worrie
d his first words would be: “You are in how much debt? Couldn’t you have just waited before having me?” So I went nuts sorting out my mess before he got big enough to tell me off. I used to get paid £160 a gig and I’d squeeze in as many of those as possible. I even worked when Kitty was so sick that I really should have stayed by her side, except I couldn’t stop thinking: “I’ve got to make another £160.”

  In hindsight, the most importance difference came when McIntyre began to employ the same work ethic that Sarah had practiced from the very beginning of her career – gig, gig, and gig some more. Also like Sarah, he started heavily scripting his performances.

  It worked. By 2009 McIntyre was performing to a staggering 500,000 people on his first record-breaking tour of the UK – which included six nights at Wembley Stadium and four at The O2 Centre.

  The BBC had watched his rise with interest and offered him a Saturday night slot for a new series – The Michael McIntyre Comedy Roadshow. It was on this show that Sarah was invited to perform. Hosted by Michael, the show took the form of a travelling comedy roadshow, broadcast from different venues around the United Kingdom and Ireland. Each episode featured a classic routine from Michael, followed by three other comedians and a final headlining act.

  The series aimed to bring new comedy acts to a BBC One Saturday night audience and would give Sarah more huge exposure – even though she was told she would have to tone her act down for the performance. It would mean less of her ruder content, and a complete halt on the prolific swearing. (Sarah loves to swear.) And with her episode being filmed at the Manchester Apollo, for once she didn’t have far to travel either.