I grew up as the ultimate middle child. I only have one brother, but growing up, we were surrounded by the whole family, including my cousins.
My eldest cousin was the first baby girl of the family (prime position). A few years later, my brother arrived – the first boy; a big moment (apparently). Three years later, little old me was born – clearly the most precious baby ever, and youngest of the family. Until a mere ten months pass, and out pops another cousin.
She resembles E.T. (in a cute way) and the attention rightfully falls to her.
So, why did I get into comedy? Childhood trauma. Isn’t that everyone’s reason?
Your girl didn’t get a huge amount of attention growing up: I lacked any talent, and was so timid, you’d hear a mouse before you heard me. So what do you do when you feel overlooked and underappreciated as a child? You get therapy seek the approval and laughter of the masses.
It also might have something to do with the fact my parents adored comedy, so I grew up gobbling down content from the comedy greats. But who really knows?
So as established, I was a little freak as a child. My cousins were fantastically gifted ballerinas, and my brother was dubbed the Jim Carrey of our generation by just about everyone we knew. I truly was not bringing anything to the table.
My dad took matters into his own hands and signed my brother and I up at our local Stagecoach. My brother really needed to work on honing his craft as the next Jim Carrey, and I, frankly, needed all the help I could get.
At this point you might be thinking this is it, this is the moment Hayley got an entire audience laughing, this is the moment she went from shy, little, freak girl™ to funny woman of the year, and my god you’d be wrong.
I lived in the shadows of the stage (mainly at the back, next to the wings), always wondering why I wasn't the leading lady in any of the shows. I mean surely everyone could see I was born to play Annie in Annie the Musical? I had the perfect straight, blonde hair for it.
I stuck it out, because I finally found something I loved – attention. I just wasn’t very good at looking like I liked it (still practically taking cover in the wings).
By this point, my dad was the ultimate family vlogger. He started writing sketches that he’d get my brother and I to perform. We’d shoot it on the family camcorder and pass it round the family (our only audience). It became a full-on side hustle (minus any of the financial payoff) for us every weekend. We’d make music videos, short films, then we started getting in on the action and would make our own sketches and videos.
I’d gather up my friends and encourage them to take part in my films, though my first digital camera didn’t have a mic, so I really leant into the silent movie genre (move on over, Charlie Chapperzzzz).
I finally found something I was good at; I finally felt like I had some sort of talent. Which is why I eventually started my YouTube channel in 2011 using a camera, wait for it… with a microphone. Wow, we really were living in the future now.
I wasn’t just a shy child, I also wasn’t very pretty – so in the social currency world at school, I was broke. Being the younger sister of the Jim Carrey, I saw how humour made my brother the most popular boy in school, so naturally I realised the only way to score any social points was to be funny.
I hadn’t ever really considered myself funny. I knew my dad was and obviously my brother was the funniest person I’d ever known. But me? Also funny? Holy shit! This is it – I was going to be rich in social currency.
But I hadn’t quite understood the rules to being the funny kid; I’d heard it was bad to find yourself funny, so I started telling jokes like I was a child AI. I’d crack out my best jokes and as everyone started to erupt, I’d force my face to drop into being as relaxed and neutral as possible, eyes gazing down like a strange, little sociopath. Whilst inside fireworks went off as I’d be visioning myself split leaping around, squealing with glee.
Thankfully, I moved away from the terrifying, robotic-like delivery and embraced my weirdness, unleashing the side of me I’d hidden for years. But a funny girl, at school, didn’t turn out to have the same social currency as being the pretty girl or funny boy.
Instead, I got highlights and strived to be both pretty and funny. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. You can’t rebrand weird at school.
I worked at Disney World after I finished uni and had this newfound confidence. There must have been some sort of hormonal shift, because I tell you what: I’ve not had that level of confidence since.
I’d been consistently uploading sketches to YouTube for a few years by this point and was hellbent on making it as a comedy actor, told the only way I could make it was to enter the world of stand up. Though if I had learnt anything from my days at Stagecoach, I knew the shadowy area upstage left by the wings was not where stand ups or leading ladies performed.
I had a table of 12 sit in my section on a slow day, they were all exhausted from the heat and long ride lines. Knowingly they’d spent a small fortune to be there, I decided it was my job to bring back the fun.
I started improvising a bit of a comedy routine using what I had in front of me. I don’t know whether it was pity or they were so low, anything was counted as humour, but it seemed to be doing the trick. It genuinely felt like I’d struck gold having these 12 strangers cackling in my direction.
They left the restaurant beaming from ear to ear and went on to send a letter to my management team gushing about how much fun they’d had with me. I took it as my sign to do this with as many tables as possible. Sometimes, I was a hit and other times I bombed so hard, I’d cringe at the idea of having to serve them for the rest of their meal.
It finally felt like things were going in the right direction, maybe stand up was on the cards after all. Then along comes Covid; I lose my job; get sent home to the UK; my dad who has dementia at this point is in a care home and seemingly worse than ever; and everything I thought I had built comes crashing down.
So what do you do when you hit rock bottom during a pandemic?
You start uploading sketches to TikTok. Four years later, I’ve won Content Creator of the Year with Funny Women, TikToker of the Year with bCreator, and Creator of the Year with bCreator.
Turns out the internet was made for shy, little, freak girl’sTM. I’ve now started a series of short comedy films on YouTube, realising I’ve come full circle from the days with my dad’s camcorder.
My next comedy short film, Tick Tock Boom is out now. Check it out here.
