I bet you thought I’d forgotten that I promised a part 2 to “things that help me” back when I foolishly committed to a sequel back in September. I hadn’t though, I just couldn’t quite work out how to talk about the thing that helped me get through burnout and living with anxiety because it’s, well, it’s a bit… normal. It’s not very cooool. There’s nothing radical about it. It’s a bit… it’s a bit basic, OK?
More basic than loving Taylor Swift? Hmm, probably not, and I guess you’re already in the (pumpkin spiced) trenches with me if you’re subscribed to Post; perhaps you’re also a connoisseur of the cheugy and still love your GHDs? So we’re cool then, you and me. Shall I tell you what I find to be one of the most helpful coping methods for anxiety?
It’s male comedians’ autobiographies. The privileged! The overbooked!
It is… James Acaster’s Classic Scrapes, Guide to Quitting Social Media and Perfect Sound Whatever. It’s also Romesh Ranganathan, Phil Wang and Joe Lycett’s scribblings, all neatly lined up on the digital library page of my Kindle.
And I’m not 100% sure why. Scroll down my Kindle a bit further to pre-2022, or visit the wall-covering bookshelves of my flat and I think you’d say I love reading women. Much like Chris Finch of The Office, actually, my usual habit it to “read a (women’s fiction) book a week”. I love a novel - the “new releases” table in Waterstones makes me act like an 8 year old collecting football stickers - got got got oh, need, got got, got. (And yes, it is ridiculous it’s called Women’s Fiction when everything else is just fiction but I can’t fix the patriarchy rn I’m trying to write about how men are our saviours) (I’m! kid! ding!) (Also I don’t just read WF - I’d probably call it Feminist Fiction to include NB and trans authors too.) (Enough brackets.) But much like the self-medicating music hiatus I talked about in September, with the harshness of anxiety and exhaustion came an impossibility of reading anything with a character with a story arc beyond “everything was OK, and then it stayed OK, the end.” The last book I didn’t finish was Sorrow and Bliss in June, (while on our honeymoon - a surprisingly common time to be anxious as it turns out) one of the most brilliant stories I’ve read in a while, but it was just too much. Too much sorrow, basically. I had to put it down halfway through.
And that’s when my shameful habit of reading male comedy writing began. Why so shameful? In case you don’t live in my head or know my CV off by heart, female comedy is very, very important to me. Before BGP, during my MA at Central St Martins, I specialised in comedy for social change - in particular, to get men interested in feminism. Back then, people were really still saying that women weren’t funny. (Can you imagine that now? It’d just be sneered at. Well maybe not by the creators of Mock the Week, but you know, the rest of us.) We (a couple of male writers and myself) made a terribly produced but quite effective mini sitcom which took male writers themselves on a real journey. If you know BGP, you’ll know it’s all about the lols - it’s about making the awkward funny so we can all feel less awks. Our first two ambassadors are comedians. And in 2017, in what was shockingly one of very very few all female comedy nights in the UK, I created Bloody Funny, the annual fundraiser which has featured everyone from Sue Perkins to Suzi Ruffell. Hell, even one of my besties is a very talented comedian (and now we’ll find out if she actually reads this newsletter.)
And yet, I wasn’t turning to the work of these brilliant women - it was only the men who could soothe me. (Sorry I just burst out laughing writing that bit.) I downloaded Romesh’s first book and off we went. For the first time in weeks (which is long for me to go without reading - yes I am very very clever) I was able to just read again. No over-attachment to the characters, no panic at how the story would end, no doom basically. It’s not like the books were without serious subjects - they all feature themes like depression, racism, death, colonialism (you know, the big boys) - but that was helpful in itself because I was like, oh, even men suffer. I know - it’s glib - but you’re here for the honesty. And because they’re real life, I basically know how it all turns out. Also, they’re really funny and really good. Although not technically a comedy book, James Acaster’s Perfect Sound Whatever is hands down one of the best books I’ve read. Reading someone talk about how much they love music reminds you it’s pretty pretty cool actually to be very intense and hyper interested in stuff.
So where does that leave us now? Well firstly, I’ve tentatively started reading novels again - Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus - 2 thumbs up (out of 2) - and I’m giving fewer fucks about what I should be reading (an English Lit degree is hard to unlearn). Are you going to catch me with Matt Hancock’s inevitable snot rag? (Edit: I just googled and he is indeed bringing a book out - gag) Absolutely not, I have taste. But I have realised that cis men can indeed be funny too and you know what, I’ll be interested to hear more from them as a community.
Until next time,
Gabby xx
What else is happening
• In case you missed it, I am running “values and voice” workshops for charities and social purpose companies with A Studio of Our Own. Find out more here.
• I’m also writing for The Inclusion Edit, a monthly diversity, inclusion and equity magazine for workplaces. If your company is interested in subscribing, just send me an email.
• I am still swimming in Hampstead Pond and today I met a woman called Jill who’s been doing it for 47 years all year round. Yesterday I met a woman who has offered me her kefir starter but I’ve been too scared to text her as I don’t know what it is.