010: Amateur Comedy with Ben
It's amateur hour!
This week’s nicheness is brought to you by writer and comedian, Ben Freeman.
Ben’s very stylish, very tall and very funny (not always in that order) and thankfully for us, he’s here to share the secrets of Amateur Comedy.
Settle in, leave the heckling at the door, and please put your hands together for Ben! Freeman!
That's Niche: Amateur Comedy
Ben’s Expertise
As a gay man, the process of seeking fame isn’t suggestive of some sort of ambition, it’s a symptom of disease bestowed upon all of us the day our wrists went limp. Whilst I’d love to model or be one of those gay sportsmen who gets an interview with Pink News after coming out, both of these paths have been blocked by me being tragically too tall. Literally, the only option left is comedy.
I want to preface that I’m an expert in Amateur Comedy with a capital A. It’s been three months since I finished my stand-up course at the Soho Theatre in London and I’ve performed at a variety of different open mic nights in the city.
Do not come for me thinking I’m writing some Seinfeld-esque comedy wisdom for this gorgeous substack. I am a comedy-baby, having exited the comedy uterus into some of the weirdest, smelliest comedy pubs in all of London.
I know nothing and I know everything. Let’s strap in.
1. Your (My) echo chamber is tighter than you think
I’m of the firm belief that good comedy is one of the greatest artforms we have. It’s vulnerable, at its best both intelligent and stupid, and laughter is a societal equalizer that trumps even enjoying an espresso martini. However tragically, bad comedy is worse than death.
I’ve bopped around straight comedy nights, queer comedy nights, comedy nights where there’s one woman in the room and comedy nights where comedians directly after me, the only queer perfomer, have made a faggot joke, and not even a good one!
One of the (in retrospect, obvious) surprises of jumping into the world of amateur comedy is realizing that, randomly, some comedians don’t necessarily share the exact same opinions of me and my deeply annoying queer 20-something friends. This is both a blessing and a curse. The curse being sometimes you have to sit through some of the most heinous 5 minute sets you could ever imagine. Yet the blessing, that even if my 12th gay joke falls like a lead balloon, I haven’t silenced the room like the confidence of a man who believes it’s his god-given right to spew transphobia to seven comedians and their seven friends on a Tuesday. Humbling for all involved. < 3
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2. Comedy has a graphic design problem
Something I’ve been wanting to get off my chest is the insane, collective graphic design psychosis of many comedy poster creators globally. I was on the bill for an open-mic night a few months ago whose poster was a mixture of an In Memorian graphic after a plane-crash and a bad trip. Imagine twenty, glowing floating faces above a psychedelic iphone wallpaper. Deranged and inspired, beautiful even.
Whilst amateur comedy does seem to have a really hopeful scene in London, it seems like it’s appealing and targeted to people who already have a vested interest in comedy and theater, which is great (!), but let's broaden the pool. The night whose poster I just mentioned was genuinely quite cute, but it’s hard to imagine anyone outside of the know being compelled to attend something when they see a poster that looks like the 2D equivalent of an armpit fart sound.
My life goal (goal as of one month ago) is to lure in the East-London girls and gays with a comedy poster that’s masqueraded to look like a fashion event or a club night. All you need is some block text and some non-descript 3D shapes and you’ll lure in the Salamon-wearing-ketamine-princesses like horses to water. At least one would hope. I promise comedy is cool!
3. Imperfection is Beautiful <3
Not to sound like a Loreal ad but imperfection IS beautiful!!!!!!! It’s so special to watch someone try out new material for the first time. Often it goes perfectly, and you get to experience the joy of them trying their best to hold in a smirk. Often it doesn’t land, but it’s arguably more special to watch them get on with it, and not let it crush them (guilty! xx).
There’s not many other forms of art you get to see during the WIP stage. You never get to hear Dua Lipa’s voice break in the recording studio, or watch Leo Dicaprio take a break on set to do a line <3. Watching someone's process on stage is personal and vulnerable, like having sex with a stranger and who doesn’t love sex with a stranger!
4. Join a Comedy Class, or any class
Find your inner child babe! You’ll make new friends and remind yourself what silly feels like.
Misc Recs
Unrelated things Ben loves that you might like, too
🕵️ Inside the secret London WhatsApp group for extremely tall men
I wrote this and I find it really funny, sorry!
🍆 How To Have Sex
A gut-punch of a film that transported me right back to Schoolies 2017 (derogatory)
🏋️ Going To The Gym
Not to be the worst person alive but going to the gym regularly for the first time in my life has “helped” “my” “mental” “health” “and” “general” “wellbeing”????????
I know it’s obvious that exercise is good or whatever but if you’re reading a substack about Amateur Comedy (embarrassing!) I’m going to take a stab and guess you’re probably not getting targeted ads from Gymshark, so let me be your Gymshark <3