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Victoria Nangle reflects on original jokes with the ghosts of Christmas past

What’s brown and sticky? What’s black and white and red all over? Why did the chicken cross the road? Maybe because he knew all the jokes on the side it was on. It’s approaching that Christmas time again and, before you go ballastic about how it’s not actually there yet and to stop scaremongering, I thought it might be time to remember joke books fondly.

Not the magical books of professional comedians these, more The Puffin Bumper Book Of Jokes To Make Your Nose Explode. There was a time when each Christmas the shops would be packed with Knock, Knock chapters and Doctor, Doctor subheadings in order to make us squeal with laughter and annoy the hell out of all adult supervision by relentlessly reading out every gag that made us laugh. And that was every single one.

“Whoever had the last laugh had the attention, which is why joke books are such lovely presents”

It was like a starter kit for polite conversation. As a child all I did at grown-up parties was sit in a bored but somewhat privileged state in a corner, or at a parent’s feet looking as angelic as they could make me, listening to them talk about boring things and occasionally being rewarded with the sound of laughter from the grown-ups upon high. That meant the subject was picking up or was coming to a conclusion, either way it sounded like the most interesting bit.

Ta da! A book full of the most interesting bits bunged in the bottom of a stocking. And when I’d exhausted that I had to make up my own interesting bits. Whether they be my family’s own misguided juvenile gags (my 6-year-old brother came up with his answer to the chicken joke one festive season – What’s under plant pots? Ants!) or a new cleverer way to make people laugh – like farting.

Whoever had the last laugh had the attention, which is why joke books are such lovely presents. They give kids the thing they crave the most – you.

Besides which, it’s always fun to revisit your golden gags of old. Introducing them to a new generation who don’t know them as ‘old’. It’s not like they’re Shakespeare or anything and taught as the ‘classics’ at school. Imagine what that syllabus would look like – Module part A of six, discuss Man Walks Into a Bar with the various animal compadres often involved in such scenarios. To be honest, I’d rather have the joke books.

No, start your Christmas shopping now and stock up on those joke books for the kiddies. Apart from anything else, it’ll certainly distract them from those mega-expensive computer games they’ve been harping on about since last Christmas. Ho, ho, ho.

Victoria Nangle deals with our different tastes in humour

You know what I find embarassing? Not so much the dying on stage, although that’s not good. Not so much the look of ‘too much information’ from the front row when I pick on one of them. Not even when I stride masterfully onto the stage, forgetting to pick up my foot just high enough for that last step, and go sprawling across the stage. That’s not quite so bad. What I find difficult, and excrutiatingly cringeworthy, is when people rave about a comic that I just don’t get.

“We all have different senses of humour, which is what makes us individual and fun to be around”

We all have different senses of humour, which is what makes us individual and fun to be around. Who knows what ‘Wacky John’ in accounts is going to say next, or ‘Bizarre Lesley’ who sits by the photocopier? We all entertain each other in different ways, and some of us find others of us funny, and the remainder don’t. It’s just one of those things. I good friend of mine is liable, upon meeting a whole new group of people for the first time, to charge in with the backwards glance of a comment “I’m just going to see who gets me.” We like having a shared sense of humour. I feel special that I’m one of the people who ‘get’ him.

Which is why it’s even more annoying and skin-crawling when friends I have loved and laughed with, and with whom I share a huge number of basic interests and views – mostly discussed late at night and with major conviction – suddenly proclaim the best comedy genius is someone who can’t even raise a chuckle with me.

Maybe it’s due to this ‘comedy being the new rock’n’roll’ thang. There was a time when my best mate wouldn’t go out with anybody who wasn’t as deeply into Depeche Mode as she was. Now she’s loosened up on that rule a tad but those strict dictates of friendship allegiances through similar tastes are no longer restricted simply to music. Whether it’s Billy Connolly or The League Of Gentlemen, some acts dictate that you’ve got to love them or be damned.

Generally when this comes up I just keep quiet. Like you do about anything that embarasses you. The first time I remember feeling quite like this was when all those magic eye posters came out. I squinted and I twisted and I pulled the strangest faces trying to just look through my eyelashes, and still it was just loads of very small odd shapes that tried to make my head hurt. In the end I proclaimed them that almighty of disses – silly. Which is what, when pushed, I’ve said about everything else I don’t quite get. Maybe it’s not silly but it certainly can’t be as clever as everyone else seems to think. Ever felt like the small child who pointed out the Emperor’s new clothes? That’s me that is.

Victoria Nangle goes off-script to reflect on a comedy-filled October in Brighton

I saw some excellent gigs during the Brighton comedy month of October. Obviously, with so many flying about at the Paramount, the Fresh Meat and the Brighton Comedy Fringe festivals we should all have seen some fandabidozee clangers of excellent gigs. However, the ones that have stayed freshest in my mind are the ones that no one else will ever see again. Sure, the comics may continue their tours but no one will catch the off-script off-kilter random-madness and absent-minded cleverness that certain stand-ups managed to deliver, chiefly because they have no idea how they got there this time either.

Off-script. It’s great. And really demonstrates quite how the random mind of a good comic works. To think on your toes and still find unexplored tangents that captivate – from a set they’ve been performing for the last three months non-stop – sure shows a madly active mind more than anything else I could name. When a comic looks round furtively and asks if there are any journalists in and then rubs their hands with glee, my smile is already there. Then, as he explains the joys of riding on his gran’s Stanna stairlift you know he’s doing that because he’s having fun too. Hence, the cycle of unique one-off fun continues.

“They’re brave adventurers mining out extra laughs for the sheer joy of the experience”

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with staying on-script. Comics have worked long and hard to get their finest gags together, lined up in quick succession in some semblance of an order. It’ll be grand, and more likely to have you laughing out loud with merry amusement. Off-script is more likely to leave me smiling knowingly with a slight chuckle than loudly guffawing and falling off my chair with merriment, but I still love the magic of the one-off musing. It just demonstrates quite how genuine the rest of the set is.

To see the comic brain in action – if it’s a good comic brain, obviously – is a thing of awe. Russell Howard does it, Robin Ince does it, Zoe Lyons does it. They’ve all been standing in front of a crowd for enough years to be concentrating more on how interesting what they’re saying is – to them as well as to us – than how scary it might be to make a balls-up of it all. It leads me to trust them, because no one’s written that tangent for them in the style of the rest. It just jumped into their heads and they thought it might make us laugh ’cos it made them chuckle. Surely the most intimate thing we can share in polite society is a sense of humour.

I feel I know the comics that went into unknown territory a little better than the straight scripted ones. They’re brave adventurers mining out extra laughs for the sheer joy of the experience. Now that’s what I call a pioneering comic.

Victoria Nangle has a quick chat with Sandra Bernhard before her Worthing gig

Hi Sandra, how are you today?
I’m kickin’ and jammin’ and running all over New York City, recording an album and grocery shopping all in the same day!

It’s great to see you return to international stand-up. Why did you leave it for so long?
Because I have a nine-year-old daughter. I have been preoccupied raising her. I’ve been busy Stateside working on various projects as well as touring with a variety of my one-woman shows. I’ve been sorely missed and I’ve missed being there so that’s why I’m finally getting back.

What do you love most about stand-up?
The interaction with the audience. The immediacy of the response. Taking on issues of the day. And tearing it apart.

What advice would you give to any aspiring female comics?
Have a unique point-of-view and a sense of fearlessness.

“If I had a day off I’d run around with Kate Moss and Pete Doherty and get into trouble”

Many first saw you acting in Roseanne. What are your strongest memories of working on the show?
Working with a stellar cast and having one of the best times I’ve ever had, with a crazy group of people.

Will you meet up with Madonna while you’re over in Blighty?
Our mutual appointment books are filled with each other.

What would you do with one day off in the UK?
Run around with Kate Moss and Pete Doherty and get into a whole mess of trouble!

Will you explore the British gay scene?
No, but they will explore me.

What brought you to perform in Worthing?
Madness and mayhem and a nice cup of tea.

Fancy a pint of beer after the show?
Of course, but can you cover a thousand of my closest friends?

Sandra Bernhard, Worthing Pavilion Theatre, Wednesday 24 October. All tickets £19.50 (plus £1 fee per ticket for card bookings). Show starts at 8pm.
Call box office on 01903 206206.