The latest Phil Evans column from the South Wales Evening Post
The latest Phil Evans column from the South Wales Evening Post -
Comedian Phil Evans is from Ammanford. He is known as the man who puts the ‘cwtsh’ into comedy.
There’s an old man, 95, lying in his bed, dying. His family surround him, all of them hushed, respectful and tearful.
Suddenly, the old man opens his eyes, sniffs the air and says, in a dry, croaking voice, “Is that a baked ham I can smell?“
His wife, who is sat by the bed holding his hand, says, “Yes, darling. I put it in the oven a little while ago.”
He gently squeezes her hand, looks into her moistened eyes and says “I’m not long for this world, but that ham smells so delicious that my last wish is to enjoy a slice of it between two pieces of warm, crusty bread.”
His wife replies, “I’m sorry, ‘cariad’, that’s just not possible. It’s for the funeral!”
That’s an amusing story. But perhaps some of you think it’s in bad taste.
Which raises the question: Should D.E.A.T.H. be a taboo subject in comedy?
It would seem not, because hundreds of sitcoms, plays, farces and comedy films have been written about D.E.A.T.H.
Their plots may involve bodies that inconveniently appear and disappear (remember that Fawlty Towers episode?); funerals; greedy people planning to bump off their partners or elderly relatives for their fortunes . . . and so on.
They amuse and no one takes offence. Not that it gives carte blanche to everyone in the comedy business to make crass, badly-judged jokes about the Holocaust, famine, airplane crashes and natural disasters that claim thousands of lives.
But some comedians Tweet, write and perform jokes, about these appalling things while they’re still part of ‘The Zeitgeist’, knowing that Twitter readers and audiences will laugh.
This is, of course, known in the business as their ‘Get out of jail’ card.
I’m not making any judgement here - just observing.
Comedian are said to have ‘died’ when their jokes fall flat. Perhaps the audience didn’t take to them or that night they weren’t on the top of their game. Whatever the cause, to spend even five minutes on a stage, desperately trying to wring laughter out of a stony-faced audience can be soul-destroying.
You do ‘die’ a little inside for the rest of the evening.
But the next night could be entirely different and you’ll have the entire room rocking with laughter.
That’s comedy for you.
When a well-known comedy actor or comedian passes away, it seems to affect us more than when a ‘straight’ actor passes on, because we hold funny men and women in real affection and recall the times we’ve laughed at their performances.
I’m talking about the greats like Eric and Ernie, Benny Hill, Ronnie Barker, Eric Sykes, Tony Hancock, Spike Milligan, Les Dawson, Bob Monkhouse, Tommy Cooper and Richard Briers.
And just a few days ago came the shocking news that comedy genius Robin Williams had died, apparently by his own hand, as a result of severe depression. It is something I still find difficult to comprehend.
Today, stand-up comedy can be far stronger and crueller than the silly, often whimsical material of previous decades, which the public at the time had found endearing. When the big comedy names of today pass on, will they be mourned in the same way as previous generations of comedians who possessed warmth and geniality?
Well, we had an insight into this when Rik Mayall, the first of the ‘alternatives’ who changed the face of comedy in the ‘80s, suddenly died in June.
I wasn’t a huge fan, but when anyone dies before their time, it’s always sad, especially for his family. Many of his friends said he was a smashing, loyal fellow.
However, it was noticeable that several ‘irreverent’ tributes paid to him by his comedy contemporaries contained four-letter words.
That didn’t happen when Eric Morecambe died. Tributes were heartfelt and eloquent.
There is an upside to D.E.A.T.H. - and you don’t have to be an undertaker or florist to appreciate it.
We humans are quite robust. We may take an emotional battering and be inconsolable in our grief for a parent, grandparent, partner, relative or good friend who’s passed. But gradually, our minds and bodies somehow manage to recover so that we can carry on. It’s quite astounding how that happens.
We’ve been through the mill, survived one of life’s great traumas and it’s strengthened our character so we’re ready to take on the next big problem that bunch of bullies ‘The Fates’ have in store for us.
Having a sense of humour and being able to enjoy a joke and a laugh can be therapeutic in times of grief. There’s scientific evidence to prove it - not that many scientists are a barrel of laughs.
So remember the words of that great Irish philosopher Jimmy Cricket: -
“Live every day as if it’s your last – and one day you’ll be right!”
---------------------------------
Regular readers may recall that a fortnight ago this column put the spotlight on mental health and depression, with a particular focus on the fact that comedians are particularly vulnerable to mental fragility.
There was nothing particularly topical about what I had to say, but it seems that recent events have now put it all in even clearer perspective.
ROBIN WILLIAMS 1951 -2014
With so many parts of the word in crisis, why should the death of an entertainer affect so many of us?
Perhaps because during his 40-year career Robin Williams’ performances helped us forget the cruel world we live in.
Apart his many hit films, he was a sensational stand-up comedian.
In the early ‘80s he topped the bill on a Prince’s Trust Charity Performance, fresh from his TV series “Mork and Mindy” – the television platform which provided his springboard here in the UK.
He struggled at first, sweating and looking panicky. But, once the audience had tuned in to his manic, stream-of-consciousness delivery, it was BOOM!
He got his first huge laugh and was off and running, improvising and riffing like a veteran jazz musician.
He was also a terrific actor in straight roles - playing memorably sinister characters in both “One Hour Photo” and “Insomnia” - and his voice performance as the animated Genie in “Aladdin” has entertained generations.
And now he’s gone.
Looking at his career and his genius ability to create laughter, it’s almost impossible to believe that he suffered from terrible depression.
But there is a small clue in his own description of comedy:
“Comedy is acting-out optimism”.
-----------------------------------------------------
Nobody loves a good party or festival more that the Welsh.
It's as if we were born for it and have been holding and even performing at such events long before the invention of radio, television or newspapers.
Now that’s a long time!
It's a form of ritual, a chance to show off and to socially connect in a special way.
By doing so we feel alive and young again. Which is undoubtedly a good thing.
If you haven't been or experienced festival life in one way or another I urge you to venture out into this world and give it a go. Take the plunge, explore and check a few out.
There is much to choose from. Food festivals, flower festivals, folk and jazz festivals, and my favourite, comedy festivals.
Beer festivals should also have a mention as they too have grown in popularity over the years.
The festival scene is booming and record numbers are being recorded up and down the country, despite the fact that the weather isn't always ideal.
These events are so important for the local economy and also give us the chance to mix, mingle and practice our communication skills whilst preserving what our grandparents and great grandparents did for generations.
It has been recorded, that many people met up with their future partners at such gatherings.
Unlike the internet dating sites of today, the festival scene was often the only way to mix with like minded people, which made it easier to talk or chat up a future partner.
Some years back a survey stated that the first thing men noticed about women was their eyes.
Following this survey, women observed that the men in this survey were a bunch of liars.
And there you have it!
----------
You can follow Phil Evans on Twitter @philevanswales
There’s an old man, 95, lying in his bed, dying. His family surround him, all of them hushed, respectful and tearful.
Suddenly, the old man opens his eyes, sniffs the air and says, in a dry, croaking voice, “Is that a baked ham I can smell?“
His wife, who is sat by the bed holding his hand, says, “Yes, darling. I put it in the oven a little while ago.”
He gently squeezes her hand, looks into her moistened eyes and says “I’m not long for this world, but that ham smells so delicious that my last wish is to enjoy a slice of it between two pieces of warm, crusty bread.”
His wife replies, “I’m sorry, ‘cariad’, that’s just not possible. It’s for the funeral!”
That’s an amusing story. But perhaps some of you think it’s in bad taste.
Which raises the question: Should D.E.A.T.H. be a taboo subject in comedy?
It would seem not, because hundreds of sitcoms, plays, farces and comedy films have been written about D.E.A.T.H.
Their plots may involve bodies that inconveniently appear and disappear (remember that Fawlty Towers episode?); funerals; greedy people planning to bump off their partners or elderly relatives for their fortunes . . . and so on.
They amuse and no one takes offence. Not that it gives carte blanche to everyone in the comedy business to make crass, badly-judged jokes about the Holocaust, famine, airplane crashes and natural disasters that claim thousands of lives.
But some comedians Tweet, write and perform jokes, about these appalling things while they’re still part of ‘The Zeitgeist’, knowing that Twitter readers and audiences will laugh.
This is, of course, known in the business as their ‘Get out of jail’ card.
I’m not making any judgement here - just observing.
Comedian are said to have ‘died’ when their jokes fall flat. Perhaps the audience didn’t take to them or that night they weren’t on the top of their game. Whatever the cause, to spend even five minutes on a stage, desperately trying to wring laughter out of a stony-faced audience can be soul-destroying.
You do ‘die’ a little inside for the rest of the evening.
But the next night could be entirely different and you’ll have the entire room rocking with laughter.
That’s comedy for you.
When a well-known comedy actor or comedian passes away, it seems to affect us more than when a ‘straight’ actor passes on, because we hold funny men and women in real affection and recall the times we’ve laughed at their performances.
I’m talking about the greats like Eric and Ernie, Benny Hill, Ronnie Barker, Eric Sykes, Tony Hancock, Spike Milligan, Les Dawson, Bob Monkhouse, Tommy Cooper and Richard Briers.
And just a few days ago came the shocking news that comedy genius Robin Williams had died, apparently by his own hand, as a result of severe depression. It is something I still find difficult to comprehend.
Today, stand-up comedy can be far stronger and crueller than the silly, often whimsical material of previous decades, which the public at the time had found endearing. When the big comedy names of today pass on, will they be mourned in the same way as previous generations of comedians who possessed warmth and geniality?
Well, we had an insight into this when Rik Mayall, the first of the ‘alternatives’ who changed the face of comedy in the ‘80s, suddenly died in June.
I wasn’t a huge fan, but when anyone dies before their time, it’s always sad, especially for his family. Many of his friends said he was a smashing, loyal fellow.
However, it was noticeable that several ‘irreverent’ tributes paid to him by his comedy contemporaries contained four-letter words.
That didn’t happen when Eric Morecambe died. Tributes were heartfelt and eloquent.
There is an upside to D.E.A.T.H. - and you don’t have to be an undertaker or florist to appreciate it.
We humans are quite robust. We may take an emotional battering and be inconsolable in our grief for a parent, grandparent, partner, relative or good friend who’s passed. But gradually, our minds and bodies somehow manage to recover so that we can carry on. It’s quite astounding how that happens.
We’ve been through the mill, survived one of life’s great traumas and it’s strengthened our character so we’re ready to take on the next big problem that bunch of bullies ‘The Fates’ have in store for us.
Having a sense of humour and being able to enjoy a joke and a laugh can be therapeutic in times of grief. There’s scientific evidence to prove it - not that many scientists are a barrel of laughs.
So remember the words of that great Irish philosopher Jimmy Cricket: -
“Live every day as if it’s your last – and one day you’ll be right!”
---------------------------------
Regular readers may recall that a fortnight ago this column put the spotlight on mental health and depression, with a particular focus on the fact that comedians are particularly vulnerable to mental fragility.
There was nothing particularly topical about what I had to say, but it seems that recent events have now put it all in even clearer perspective.
ROBIN WILLIAMS 1951 -2014
With so many parts of the word in crisis, why should the death of an entertainer affect so many of us?
Perhaps because during his 40-year career Robin Williams’ performances helped us forget the cruel world we live in.
Apart his many hit films, he was a sensational stand-up comedian.
In the early ‘80s he topped the bill on a Prince’s Trust Charity Performance, fresh from his TV series “Mork and Mindy” – the television platform which provided his springboard here in the UK.
He struggled at first, sweating and looking panicky. But, once the audience had tuned in to his manic, stream-of-consciousness delivery, it was BOOM!
He got his first huge laugh and was off and running, improvising and riffing like a veteran jazz musician.
He was also a terrific actor in straight roles - playing memorably sinister characters in both “One Hour Photo” and “Insomnia” - and his voice performance as the animated Genie in “Aladdin” has entertained generations.
And now he’s gone.
Looking at his career and his genius ability to create laughter, it’s almost impossible to believe that he suffered from terrible depression.
But there is a small clue in his own description of comedy:
“Comedy is acting-out optimism”.
-----------------------------------------------------
Nobody loves a good party or festival more that the Welsh.
It's as if we were born for it and have been holding and even performing at such events long before the invention of radio, television or newspapers.
Now that’s a long time!
It's a form of ritual, a chance to show off and to socially connect in a special way.
By doing so we feel alive and young again. Which is undoubtedly a good thing.
If you haven't been or experienced festival life in one way or another I urge you to venture out into this world and give it a go. Take the plunge, explore and check a few out.
There is much to choose from. Food festivals, flower festivals, folk and jazz festivals, and my favourite, comedy festivals.
Beer festivals should also have a mention as they too have grown in popularity over the years.
The festival scene is booming and record numbers are being recorded up and down the country, despite the fact that the weather isn't always ideal.
These events are so important for the local economy and also give us the chance to mix, mingle and practice our communication skills whilst preserving what our grandparents and great grandparents did for generations.
It has been recorded, that many people met up with their future partners at such gatherings.
Unlike the internet dating sites of today, the festival scene was often the only way to mix with like minded people, which made it easier to talk or chat up a future partner.
Some years back a survey stated that the first thing men noticed about women was their eyes.
Following this survey, women observed that the men in this survey were a bunch of liars.
And there you have it!
----------
You can follow Phil Evans on Twitter @philevanswales
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