Comedian Phil Evans asks: Is mental illness a laughing matter?
Mental illness is no laughing matter, despite the fact that all of us working in comedy seem to treat everything as a target.
But, hey, hang on a minute, is that correct?
Mental illness has been a laughing matter for centuries - to varying degrees.
In the 18th century, people would pay a penny each to be allowed into Bethlem Royal Hospital in Moorfields, London, to laugh and cruelly poke fun at the hundreds of unfortunate slack-jawed, dead-eyed, mentally ill patients weeping and wailing as they repeatedly banged their injured heads against the crude stone walls of their fetid cells.
In 1841 alone, 96,000 people visited the hospital to stare and giggle at the inmates.
The first Tuesday of the month saw them queuing around the block to get in. Entry was free on those days.
You’ll probably know the Bethlem Hospital by its better-known name . . . Bedlam.
“Yes, but we’ve come a long way since them,”I hear you say.
“We’re much more civilised”
Oh really?
Then, you tell me what the difference is between 18th century bullies, doubled-up at the sight of a confused former foot soldier with shellshock, gibbering away to himself . . . and the people in the audience at auditions for The X Factor or Britain’s Got Talent?
It is car crash TV to see them hooting with laughter at some deluded unfortunate who has little talent and is possibly saddled with some (hopefully) minor mental problems.
The TV producers of these shows seem to have plenty in common with those who threw slaves to the lions at the Colosseum in Rome.
They pitch the hopefuls in, hoping they will ‘liven-up’ the show.
The trouble is, who is willing to stand up and say, hand on heart, that they haven’t sat at home watching and ‘enjoying’ these moments of car crash reality TV?
OK, some of you may have had the odd twinge of guilt, but did you press the ‘off’ button on the TV?
Taking The X Factor or Britain’s Got Talent into consideration, I don’t think we’ve come too far since the days of ‘Bedlam’.
There are of course varying degrees of ‘mental illness’, some of which depend on your viewpoint on various subjects.
For example, if you’re a particularly religious person, you’ll probably believe in a God/Creator who fashioned this Earth in seven days and who sits around in Heaven, waiting to greet and shake hands with the deceased as they walk through the Pearly Gates. You believe this, despite having no absolute proof that He or She exists. If anyone suggested you were mentally ill because of your beliefs, you’d be offended.
But how do you feel about people who firmly believe in fairies, angels, pixies, lizard-men from the centre of the earth, aliens, The Yeti and UFOs, even though there’s never been any absolute proof they exist?
When you see them on TV going on about their obsessions, do you shake your head and think “poor deluded fool!” If so, what you’re doing is passing judgement on their mental state.
People with OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder), who wash their hands and clean their house over and over, have a slight mental illness.
But people who clean their cars inside and out every Sunday morning and meticulously mow their lawns and trim their garden hedges are merely regarded as ‘neat’. It’s a thin line.
Mental illness, like physical illness, can invade all walks of life – and comedy is no exception.
From the great clown Joseph Grimaldi to Spike Milligan and more recently Paul Merton and Caroline Aherne, comedians have had their problems keeping sane while making audiences laugh for a living.
Comedians and performers are particularly vulnerable to mental fragility as they face rejection on a regular basis.
In fact, every time they stand on a stage or in front of a radio microphone or television camera, they have to prove themselves.
It only takes a couple of sub-standard performances, perhaps, and the word gets round: “So and so is not as funny as he/she used to be . . . ”
Rejection can be so damaging to the seasoned performer, just as much as it is to the young or new talent. We all feel pain on a bad night or when that cruel or cutting review is read.
I’ve stood in front of an audience, delivering a routine that usually gets big laughs. Instead, you can hear tumbleweed and you get a ‘staring’ ovation.
There’s no real reason for jokes to be received in silence - but it’s agony for a comic.
The nights you went well, you’ll always remember.
The nights you went badly, you’ll never forget.
No wonder there is so much mental illness in the world of entertainment.
I pride myself in being supportive and encouraging to all my fellow performers, despite the fact that the world of comedy can lack professional respect.
You may have noticed that newspapers, TV and Radio are currently publicising the fact mental illness should be dealt with openly and we should be more supportive.
I couldn’t agree more, but as a nation our lack of understanding or ignorance of the subject makes this a long drawn-out challenge.
Having known, and worked with some clever and talented people, it is sometimes hard to accept or understand that they are ill or mentally challenged at any time (or that they can fall into depression and other illnesses).
Life is full of ups and downs, highs and lows, and we can be affected in many ways.
Anything can send a relatively normal person (not that there is an absolutely 100% normal person anywhere in the world) hurtling towards the door marked “Nervous Breakdown”
It could be pressure of work, marital problems or money worries.
Some people can deal with these matters without it affecting their mental state. I take my hat off to them.
But if you have a run of bad luck (presuming such a thing as luck exists), starting with, say, a family bereavement, followed immediately by a car accident, a kitchen flood, a sick child, redundancy, being overdrawn on your overdraft and a summons being handed to you . . . it would take a very strong person not to be sent reeling by this relentless pummelling.
How can we deal with such matters?
It may take a visit to the GP for some ‘happy pills’ to see you through this stressful time.
But friendships are also important. It’s important to be surrounded by positive, understanding, uplifting people.
Whether it’s your partner, family member or a good friend, having someone who can take the long view and assure you that better times are ahead is vitally important.
You many not believe them at first, but as things do get better, you’ll remember their words and be grateful for them.
I have worked with and for many talented household names over the years and, hopefully, this will continue for years to come.
And if I end up mentally challenged, I very much hope that someone out there will take me to one side and say “Phil. It’s okay. We understand. This will pass and all will be OK”.
But until it does pass, Iet me make it clear right now that, as a professional funny man, I’ll be charging visitors a damn sight more than a penny a time to come and laugh at me bouncing around inside my padded cell.
And the DVD rights will remain mine!
In the words of the great radio psychiatrist Frasier Crane, “I wish you goodbye . . . and good mental health.”
Phil Evans is the 'Hugmeister of Wales' and the man who has put the 'Cwtsh' back into comedy. He is a favourite warm-up comedian for TV shows on BBC, S4C and ITV. He has just finished a very successful variety show tour of South Wales with the singer Paul Child. Squeeze him for information on his favourite topic – the Welsh cwtsh (hug) – and he will explain why a cwtsh should always be spelt as ‘cwtsh’ and not ‘cwtch’. Press him for further information about how his comedy career started and he will tell you how he left school with 10 GCSEs . . . before the headmaster told him to put them back! Cheeky, but never crude or offensive, Evans produces a very Welsh brand of humour. On October 26 and 27 he will be performing at the Comedy Club in Oslo, Norway.
http://www.philevans.co.uk
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