Below is the speech given by BBC Director of Comedy Jon Petrie at the BBC Comedy Festival in Liverpool on Wednesday.

Welcome 

Hello Liverpool! 

Thank you for joining us for this year’s BBC Comedy Festival. It feels so exciting to have this festival in a city with such ridiculous comedy heritage, from Bread to G’Wed, from Ken Dodd to John Bishop, and of course the original Liver Bird and all-round comedy legend Alison Steadman! 

Taking comedy seriously 

This is now our fifth Comedy Festival. It’s about looking ahead to what comedy we have coming up on the BBC. But it’s also about celebrating comedy talent – both new and established, on camera and behind the scenes – and making sure comedy gets the attention and respect it deserves. Basically, it’s a business conference where we take comedy so seriously we give out lanyards. 

In our industry, it can too often feel like comedy is the scruffy sibling at the family gathering while drama gets the big entrance and entertainment gets the shiny floor. Personally, I think rebel sibling is nearer the truth. The Prince Harry of the TV Royal Family if you will. I won’t say who’s Andrew. But either way, comedy has had to fight harder than it should for attention, for status and sometimes for survival. This festival is part of that fight. 

Which is odd, really, because comedy is what people turn to again and again. It is what we quote, what we rewatch, what brings us together. My kids and I are watching Red Dwarf together, which is so fun but also very awkward explaining to a 10-year-old what’s so funny about the word smeg. 

It’s what we use to get through bad weeks and grim news cycles and the general business of being alive. Comedy, not smeg. 

Comedy is now available on the NHS to help people with mental health issues, and surely it won’t be long before your doctor gives you a prescription for it: one Mammoth and two Partridges – one in the morning and one at night. Not to be taken with food, in case you choke laughing. Just be careful if your doctor prescribes you a couple of Mandys. 

Comedy is part of our survival mechanism. It helps us cope. It’s right up there with doomscrolling, binge drinking and changing Prime Ministers every three months. 

Tough times for the sector 

So with everything going on in the world, this should be comedy boom time. 

But as the people who work in this business know all too well, scripted comedy is going through a very tough patch and has been for a long time. Money is tight. Opportunities are fewer than they should be. People are making shows under real pressure. 

The extraordinary thing is that, in spite of all that, the people in this room keep delivering. 

BAFTA-winning Amandaland drew 7.4 million viewers for its Christmas special. Small Prophets has become the BBC’s biggest new scripted launch, with 7.7 million viewers and the biggest programme on BBC2 since records began. Very different shows, but both proof that British comedy can still be ambitious, original and hugely popular. 

And other streaming services are available: it’s not just the BBC capturing attention with comedy. In the last few months, Man Vs Baby, Saturday Night Live and Last One Laughing have all made a real impact and drawn big audiences. 

British comedy’s biggest backer 

But what sets the BBC apart is that we are British comedy’s biggest backer by far. And in tough times, when there is less and less scripted comedy on television, that matters even more. 

Because the BBC does not back comedy to make money. We back it for laughs. And if we weren’t here to support comedy properly, the simple truth is there would be a lot less of it. A lot less space for original voices. A lot less room to take risks. 

We back comedies because we love them, not because an algorithm tells us to. I don’t think an algorithm would have said that what the country wants now is a comedy about a guy who works at B&Q and grows homunculi in his shed. 

The case for comedy is stronger than it is often given credit for. And as other channels and streamers wake up to the fact that comedy can land like no other genre, our message to them is simple. Make more. We welcome the competition. Quite literally, the more the merrier. 

The evidence is there in the hits people watch now and the comedies they come back to again and again. Invest in comedy and the British public will do what they always do. Judge it mercilessly, insist they could have done it better, and then absolutely love it. 

And I should say this too. We have a new Director-General starting next week, and I fully intend to camp outside his office, like I’m trying to get Wimbledon tickets, to meet him and make sure he understands just how vital it is that the BBC keeps backing comedy, so that this brilliant genre can not only survive, but thrive. 

Conclusion 

So, this festival is a celebration. Of what comedy does, of the people who make it, and of a city that has always known its value. And I hope it is also felt as a promise. That the BBC is still here, still backing comedy, and still backing the talent in this room.

ENDS