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In the current climate, I now have to change my phone number. The line comes 2,673 words in to a 27,190 word, 105 minute show, 2009’s , which takes Mc Intyre, and the Frankie Boyle/Jeremy Clarkson offence model, as polarised extremes of comedy, between which I try to find a third way. Doubtless someone with a search engine will turn up something horrible, but when I am asked about Mc Intyre in interviews, as all us comedians are now, I have learned to complement him on having converted a nation to the idea of stand-up as a viable entertainment option, and usually find a way to leaven any negative comments with positive ones, (though these are often edited out), even to the extent of expressing the genuine desire to be allowed to tour all his most famous routines myself, word for word, to see if their very familiarity would lend them to a tonal reinterpretation.The show opens with me attempting to give audiences what the struggling stand-up Stewart Lee imagines they want, namely a Mc Intyre-style routine about high street coffee shops. (Could the endless noticing of everyday quirks be delivered in such a way as to suggest they were the work of a vengeful and malevolent God, for example? I went once in 1992 and I’ve only been invited once since, when I was working anyway. I saw it on TV once and there was a big, frightened, unhappy snake writhing around on stage, and loads of drunk TV twats were laughing at it as it flailed miserably towards their coke-flecked tables.To quote Simon Munnery, a greater comedian than anyone mentioned on this page, and one who has never won a British Comedy Award,: ‘.’ But it is necessary for people to be reminded that there is more than one way of doing stand-up, as Mc Intyre’s observational shtick becomes a gold standard, and young comics think their only chance of success is to get a slot on his roadshow.I’ve made the point, in a piece for the Independent, that Mc Intyre’s ubiquity means ‘alternative’ comics do, for the first time since the ’70s, have a clearly visible mainstream to define themselves in opposition to, and this has benefitted me, for example, enormously I think.
Moir’s column about ‘foul-mouthed left-wing’ comics who hate Michael Mc Intyre is only to able to suggest two examples of this ‘cabal’, me and, bizarrely, Frankie Boyle, the paper’s default bete noir.
Which brings us to Frankie Boyle, the malcontent Scottish comedian who thinks it is funny to make jokes about child rape, Madeleine Mc Cann and, famously, Katie Price’s blind, autistic son, Harvey.‘ No.
What I do does not ‘bring us to Frankie Boyle’, because I don’t do anything about child rape, Madeleine Mc Cann or Harvey Price or anything like any of that; and it doesn’t bring us to Frankie Boyle because he has neither been quoted as commenting on Michael Mc Intyre or ever been described as left-wing and PC and liberal, which surely makes him utterly irrelevant to both the title and the supposed content of Jan’s silly article.
Anyway, today The Daily Mail has got hold of the story, so all sense and reason is out of the window now.
Their chief rage monger, Jan Moir, censured in 2009 for her comments about the death of Boyzone’s Stephen Gately, wrote a column with the headline, ‘Heard the one about the right on comics who HATE the funniest man in Britain.‘ There is very little point in trying to reason with The Daily Mail, and attempting to do appears to have driven Robin Ince mad.