proving yourself

can we ever stop???

Would it surprise you if I, a comedian, someone who has tried to make ‘forcing people to pay money to show their appreciation for me whenever I speak’ into a viable career, said I didn’t have a nice time at school? Would that rock you to your earthly core?

It wasn’t the worst, but I got bullied in secondary school for looking weird and being good at Religious Studies (?) and wearing a tablecloth over my jeans (fair). Among other things, a boy continuously sang a song about me to the tune of Englishman In New York by Sting - an esoteric choice for a young lad from a northern council estate in 2002, but there it is. We won’t go into the other things, but let’s just say I often ate lunch in a toilet cubicle and, because I wasn’t allowed to eat lunch in toilet cubicles (presumably due to it being gross), I sometimes printed an OUT OF ORDER sign at home to bring in and stick on the cubicle door so teachers wouldn’t turf me out.

I reckon that’s simultaneously the most impressive and sad thing I’ve ever done. Actually no: I once attempted to prove to my sister her new hamster was frightened rather than evil by putting my hand in to stroke him, he bit me, I pulled my hand back, he clung on with his teeth and I accidentally flung him over my shoulder so hard he hit the wall, slid down, had a brain haemorrhage and died. That was the most impressive and sad thing I’ve ever done. God bless you, Sage.

I would have said up until recently that I’d moved beyond all this school stuff (the bullying, not the hamster) because I rarely think about it anymore. I don’t choose clothes based on whether [redacted name of bully] will laugh at them, I don’t conceal my interests in the machinations of the six major world religions and I rarely eat lunch in self-styled OUT OF ORDER toilet cubicles.

Mainly, though, I feel like I’ve proved to [redacted] that I’m much more than an odd-looking teenager with an A* in RE dressed like a table. Look - I write jokes for actual television shows! Look look - I do voiceovers for Paramount Plus! Look look look - I bought a house and wear fashionable trousers with interesting hems!!!! LOOK.

Important notice: if I’d done none of these things, I’d still be more than worthy of respect. Of course! But remember, we’re living in my skewed world where I believe I must prove myself by holding up bits of paper with achievements on them. I wonder where I got this idea from? Was it sending universities bits of paper with exam achievements on them? Or sending prospective employers bits of paper with career-based achievements on them? I guess we’ll never know and it will remain a great secret mystery.

Anyway, two things happened that made me realise I have absolutely not moved beyond this school stuff, and will possibly remain thirteen forever. Consider it a warning.

1. I got an email from the producers of a TV show I filmed last year (Taskmaster) saying ‘Hello, is [redacted] a real person?’ which really surprised me, because how did they know the full name of the boy who bullied me at school???? How???? Had he got in touch with the production???????????? And then it was explained to me that, during the studio recording, I looked directly into the camera and shouted ‘LOOK AT ME NOW, [REDACTED FULL NAME]’, something I think I can write about because they can’t use it unless I ask [redacted]’s permission which a) I can’t do because it would be unfair and b) I can’t do because I’m scared he’ll sing the song at me. WhooAAAoao she’s an alien.

I think the presenter of the show repeated the bully’s full name in his summary bit at the end of the episode as well, clearly presuming I’d made the name up and that I surely wasn’t thick enough to correctly identify someone on national television. You can’t call someone out on television for being mean to you twenty five years ago. None of us should be held accountable for our actions when we were young. Unless of course you were a proper psychopath. I’m talking about normal kid stuff, like how I - as previously discussed - told my best friend I was a ghost to stop her from running off with a new girl at school. Just normal kid stuff, ok.

Anyway the point is I’d become stressed by bright lights, gone into a fugue state and screamed the name of my childhood bully into a camera. That’s the point.

2. I got a WhatsApp from an old school friend in February 2024 saying ‘Hey, [redacted name of teacher who was at the school when I was there, and is now the headteacher of the same school] is thinking about doing something with past pupils, and what they’re up to now. Would you send a bio over to [redacted email address of receptionist at school]?’ and instead of doing this, I thought: no. I’ll wait until I’ve got something proper on telly, something recognisable to put on the bio in case [redacted former bully’s name] sees it.

Allow me to explain my logic.

If you’ve bullied someone as a child for being super weird and then see their bio on a wall and it says ‘comedian’ you’re not going to think ‘Blow me down everything’s coming up Stevie’ are you? I could have phrased that better. You’re not going to be impressed. You’re not going to be impressed unless there’s something next to that name that you recognise, like Taskmaster (which I reckon most people will at least have heard of). Rather than, say, a Thornton’s advert.

This is not my view, by the way. I think there is nothing braver than being a comedian, and that it’s impossible to quantify being successful. But that is not the broad view. The broad view is success = bits of paper, and comedy is by far the least socially acceptable artistic pursuit to “fail” at. Van Gogh was a failed painter, which was noble and poignant and showed he was a true artist; a failed writer is similarly noble and interesting in the eyes of society; even a failed mime is fair enough, because nobody presumes there’s any money in mimework. Good on you for mime-fighting the good mime-fight! But not getting anywhere as a comedian? Going around trying to be funny and everyone’s like ‘no thanks’??????? Excruciating.

All this to say, I couldn’t let [redacted] have the same opinion as the guy who worked in Fintech at the party who asked ‘What do you do’ and I said ‘I’m a comedian’ and he said ‘What have you been in’ and I said ‘Oh nothing really’ and then when I left the party he said ‘Nice to meet you, I’m sure you’re funnier on stage than in real life’ and I thought about it every day for three years. I couldn’t let [redacted] think that.

So, I didn’t send my bio to the email address my friend had given me. Instead, I waited until I had something good to put on the bio, which turned out to be Taskmaster, which turned out to be a full year later, in February 2025.

And when I did reply - typing the email out with a real thrill up my spine, if you can say that these days - I got a polite and faintly confused email back saying ‘Hello Steve, thank you for sending this. If we do something with alumnus I’ll be sure to let you know. Have a nice week.’ as though I’d just randomly emailed the school to tell them how well I was doing.

Turns out there is something more embarrassing than saying you’re a comedian at a party! It’s walking into the party, shouting ‘HELLO I’M ON TV IF YOU’D LIKE TO INCLUDE ME IN YOUR LIST OF NOTABLE PEOPLE AT THIS PARTY' and everyone going ‘….ok?’ politely before turning back to whatever it was they were doing. I can never contact the school again.

What am I saying? I don’t know. I suppose beware of your ego, beware of a need to prove something, and you’ve already made your kid self proud just by remaining on this planet and sticking at it and being able to navigate a train timetable or make dinner for yourself. Every time you successfully reply to an email, or someone asks your opinion on wine or something, you’ve done it. You’re doing it. Please don’t email your school.

Of course this won’t help, because I don’t think we can stop feeding the bottomless pit that opened up in or brains when we hit puberty (plus I don’t know anything about wine), but we can accept the pit, make friends with the pit, and maybe do some interior decorating in there. Pop some wallpaper up. Find a nice up-cycled sofa. A floor lamp. A futon for guests. It’s your bottomless pit, and if you’re aware of it then maybe you won’t need to prove yourself quite so much, and quite all the time.

Also LOOK AT ME NOW IAIN DICKENS.

Sorry, I had to. I am nothing if not committed to the bit. If you’re reading this Iain, I forgive you for ruining what is quite a good song.