Monthly Archives: January 2023

Here’s a sweeping generalisation backed up with absolutely no research whatsoever: I suspect it’s quite a British phenomenon (and even more so if you’re a woman, and even more so if you’re a woman over forty) to feel as though you are an inconvenience, an interruption, something to be tolerated until a better thing comes along. I’ve always been an apologiser. How do you unlearn the cliché of being the person who apologises when someone else bumps into you? Not long ago I waved and apologised at someone at temporary traffic lights for “letting me go”—their light was on red, mine was on green, but so deep–seated is the need in me to be liked that I do these things without realising, now. Years ago, I spent  a brief period working on a switchboard for a large corporate company. One day I received a scary call in the form of a bomb threat. It was a hoax, everything was fine, but it was frightening and felt very real. At the end of the call (the threat), I said, “Thank you.” Was I actually worried about a terrorist judging my manners? I’ve never told anyone that. It’s so embarrassing.

Performing comedy is weird when you’re a compulsive apologiser. Frequently I’ll get up and start a set by apologising for being the oldest person in the room, or making people wonder why their mom is on stage being embarrassing, or for making a joke that some might think goes a bit too far. And people say to me, “But you don’t look nervous. You seem really confident! I couldn’t do what you do!” Hmmm… that’ll be fifty years of practising “how to balance getting attention with being liked.”

Over the past week or so I have become hypnotised by Iliza Shlesinger and Chelsea Handler: two American comedians whose energy, attitude and style have made me take a step back and reflect upon why I’m so apologetic; why I feel so much of an inconvenience; why I’m so convinced I shouldn’t be taking up people’s time and space. (I can feel your eyerolls.) These women are loud and utterly hyperbolic. And “we” don’t really like these types of women. After all, is it not enough that women try to be funny? Do they have to be so damned proud of it, too? My god… it’s almost as if they’re enjoying it, are in control, and aren’t seeking approval from people they don’t actually like! Weirdos!

Writing this, I keep stopping because I’m worried I’m going to come across as too cocky or needy or like I have the first clue what I’m talking about. It’s exhausting expending this much energy on other people’s opinions. How do you stop? 

I remember, years ago, watching Kathy Burke on an episode of Room 101 when it was hosted by Paul Merton (long, long ago). She chose to banish successful novelist/disgraced, lying, embroiled–in–a–sex–scandal MP Jeffrey Archer. She explained, with words to the effect of, “I know he seems like an obvious choice because everyone knows he’s awful, but if ever I end up in a social situation with him, I know I’d feel sorry for him and want people to give him a chance. I’d tell people to mind their handbags to be on the safe side, but I’d want him to like me, and I can’t bear the thought of it.” It was something like that. I totally understand that need to make people feel at ease, even at the cost of your own squirming unease.  

So I’m trying to be less apologetic, to be bigger… shoulders back, head held high, all that stuff. To put it more succinctly, I’m trying to be more, in the words of The Marvellous Mrs Maisel, “tits up!” And I’m not even sorry. Well… I am a bit, but I’m working on it.