There are two versions of this story depending on how much I want to kill the vibe. The “Diet Coke” version is that I took a comedy course, really enjoyed it and caught the bug.
The “Pepsi Max” version is that my partner of eight years dumped me and two weeks later my father died. I’d done about eight gigs at that point and enjoyed them, but I didn’t have a burning desire to say something. I was content with my small, happy life.
Then suddenly everything imploded, and I thought, “Now I’ve got something to say.” A few weeks later, I did a little comedy competition in a pub, made it to the final and never looked back. (I constantly look back.)
Rebecca Need-Menear
Sixth Form Entertainment
When I was 18, I wrote the Sixth Form Entertainment for my school (which incidentally took place within the Square Mile if you can believe the serendipity).
It was just a play ripping the piss out of the teachers and some students, performed by some sixth formers for all the pupils. I wrote most of it, and some sassier classmates (who are now partners in law firms and successful New York property developers) added a few scenes.
The process of writing it was fun, but the best part was standing at the side, watching the uptight headmistress and teachers crease at the spicier jokes I’d written.
I watched them laugh despite themselves and thought, “I’ll have some more of that please.”
I wouldn’t perform stand-up for another 14 years, getting waylaid with a variety of careers (from TV to lawyering) and degrees (from medicine to neuroscience) but that feeling never left.
Rebecca Need-Menear
Gigging
How I perceive gigging has really changed. You can get into the habit of gigging several times a week but not really appreciating it. I see it a bit like smoking cigarettes (which I haven’t done for over a decade) but occasionally a live gig is so incredible, you have to stop to behold it – when you really connect with the audience and they have a great time and you have a great time.
But you can get into the habit of gigging and not being focused on the audience, and instead wanting to do your “new bits”.
How I enjoy and turn up to gigs has really changed, especially since I’ve been focused on writing my new show, Dancing While Old.
If you have an idea, you can get it out into the world then and there.
Online Sketches
I’ve always loved doing sketches. I grew up on Smack the Pony, Harry & Paul, the Fast Show and later the Black Lady Sketch Show and Key & Peele. So when gigs dried up during lockdown, recording some rudimentary sketches on my phone and posting them online seemed a no-brainer.
I started political, with impressions of my favourite Made in Chelsea characters, and went on to do sketches about Gen Zs in the workplace and the more cathartic Non-committal Men Throughout the Ages.
After a few videos, I started to get a fair amount of views, although we never judge a person by how many views their comedy reels get (over 40 million) or how many followers they have (60k across two platforms).
Doing online videos is great, not just because you don’t have to leave your house and if you put the phone very high you can make your face look skinnier than it is, but also because if you have an idea, you can get it out into the world then and there.
And my more niche sketches like Ibsen’s Heroine can find their audience online, which feels fantastic. Whereas sometimes, when you’re doing that same sketch live in a room above a pub to a bunch of lads who just came to watch their mate try his Tight Five, you can start to question every decision you’ve ever made.
Ibsen’s Heroine Sketch and several others will be in my show Dancing While Old at the Pleasance Courtyard 5-30 August. Tickets are available via pleasance.co.uk
