At the risk of digging an even deeper hole for myself I'll try to respond below to Dave Twentyman's response to my original piece here. His position seems to be that he is annoyed that a "pub circuit comic" as he has been dubbed by one critic, is not considered to be an artist in the same way, for instance, that darts is not considered to be a sport.
Firstly I have plenty of respect for what club comedians do week in, week out. It demands a great deal of skill, as well as courage and nerve. And, as Dave points out, it often does make an emotional connection with the audience. That is why they - hopefully - laugh.
Some smartarse critic, possibly me, once called Simon Munnery “the closest comedy is to being modern art” but actually all stand-up comedy can be defined as art. In the same way, at least, that I think all paintings are art, whether done by Dali or by your four-year-old in primary school. It is a question of quality. Surely even Dave would accept that Stewart Lee or Mark Thomas are more successfully creative than someone doing the same twenty minutes on the circuit. Again, this is not an attack. If your material is not being eaten up by television and you are not playing to the same audience each week why shouldn't you do the same material?
So this is not intended as a put-down on club comics. If there his any snobbery it is about the quality, not the categorisation. Surely everyone agrees that steak is better than burgers (though I occasionally fancy a burger and can't afford steak all the time). Suarez is better than Southend United's best striker. Can I compare One Direction to Arcade Fire? They are both making art but aimed at distinctly different audiences.
Dave Twentyman brings up the thorny issue of class. I'm not sure if this strengthens his argument. As he says himself, there are plenty of successful comedians from working class background such as Millican, Kay, Manford and Flanagan. And I'm not dismissive of them (I don't think Chortle is either). There is a phenomenal amount of craft in the way they put together their acts – I've seen Micky Flanagan's notes and seen shows evolve from try-outs to Arena gigs. Critics give them just as much respect as they give the Oxbridge brigade.
These observational stand-up shows might not be my favourite type of comedy but I clearly appreciate what they do. I don't "only enjoy" a certain type of comedy. but like anyone of course I have my favourites. Sometimes I don't like an act and they might happen to be working class, but I don't treat them with patronising disdain or contempt (I was going to say I save that for Jim Davidson but I don't want to weaken my defence). There are also old Etonians that do not impress me.
It is worth noting that those above names that Twentyman mentions have all picked up Award nominations in Edinburgh, so they are hardly overlooked by prize-giving judges either. They are the best in their field. The real grafters. If you want to compete in Edinburgh you really do have to be at the top of your game and then stick a cherry on it too. The cliche is talking about your dead dad, but it doesn't have to be so profound – Jason Manford's breakthrough show was about urban myths, John Bishop's was about his midlife crisis. It just has to be more than an extended club set to make an impact in a crowded marketplace. I don't make the rules, that's just my observation.
Making it in comedy is a truly gruelling challenge. As Twentyman has written about elsewhere, it has echoes of the first 15 minutes of Saving Private Ryan. Just getting to the stage of getting paid gigs is an achievement. Many fall before then. The best of the bunch have all sorts of weapons in their armoury. Daniel Kitson and Mark Thomas could probably play the boisterous clubs Twentyman plays. But could Twentyman play the Traverse Theatre?
Critics might occasionally latch on to "arty" comics because it looks as if they are saying something of greater cultural and philosophical importance. And maybe - take the likes of Russell Brand and Bridget Christie – they are pushing back boundaries of what stand-up can address. But you've only got to see the positive coverage that the likes of Flanagan and Bishop get in the broadsheets to see that no-nonsense, no-frills, working class comedy is taken seriously too. I should imagine there have been a lot more glossy weekend magazine interviews with John Bishop in recent years than there have been with world class darts players. If comedy snobbery does exist it is not necessarily critics who are guilty of it. Maybe some comedians are as well
