Best known for comedy sketch show Smack The Pony, as well as turns in and , Fiona Allen is preparing to do her first solo comedy show at the , aged 58. She talks about the terrifying transition from telly to stand-up, who she finds funny and how her attempts at mid-life hobbies failed…
You’re well known for being funny on telly but you’re relatively new to live stand-up. What made you decide to try it now?
I’d done a few open spots before lockdown and decided I would give myself three months to see how it went.
I knew it would be serious arrogance and a massive mistake if I just went, ‘Hey, I want to do stand-up now and because I’ve done comedy on telly it’ll be all right.’
I did it for a year and then lockdown happened just as I was getting bookings.
I started again after lockdown and I just really started to fall in love with it.
What has it been like performing in the comedy clubs?
It’s interesting. I don’t think audiences judge me – and I love the response I get from them – but I think other comics have judged me.
One guy in his late 20s, in a dressing room full of blokes, said, ‘You have got your awards, you’ve done things. You’ve got where we want to go. You should push to the side and let us come through.’
Did he frame it as a joke?
No, he meant it. I said, ‘I want you to remember what you just said to me when you’re my age,’ and it went a bit quiet.
I said, ‘What am I supposed to do? Not do anything?’ I’m not having anyone tell me I’m in a woman in my 50s and therefore I shouldn’t be doing anything.
What’s your Edinburgh show about?
When my kids were younger I wanted to be at home for them in the evenings but now they’re older I started trying out different things to fill my time but I f***ed them all up.
I didn’t do very well at yoga, I was hopeless in the gym, and swimming was a nightmare.
I ended up wanting to do walking but I bumped into Rolf Harris and then his dog had a beef with my dog so I had to dodge round corners to avoid him.
So, a lot of it is about my experiences of starting stand-up, how I got there, and a lot of silly stuff about doing things for yourself.
There’s lots of silly stuff, like imagining if a woman was in charge of the tech for sex robots.
Will you be putting in something traumatic or sad at the 40-minute mark in your show?
I’ve heard about that! You’re supposed to make people cry or do something heavy.
No, at that mark I think I’m talking about the bear they send home from school and you have to take photographs of it.
If it lands on half-term the bear’s always on a plane, or ‘Oh, Olivia’s mum’s taken the bear to a science museum… in Paris.’
I took the bear to lunch and put it on its side with an empty bottle of Rioja next to it. I did bad stuff to the bear.
What are your favourite memories of doing Smack The Pony?
We had so much fun. I came up with the idea of a bullfighter who fell in love with a bull. She couldn’t kill it and they ran away together to Wigan. The producers found a beautiful bull who’d won awards for his personality.
I was terrified for an hour or two and then I just fell in love with him. I’d been holding his horn like we were holding hands for half an hour and the farmer came up and told me not to do that as they don’t like it. He could have told me earlier!
And the bull nudged me (he wasn’t being awful but he was so massive and strong) and I thought my ribs were going to break. It was the best day of filming.
The creativity on that show was fabulous. Sally (Phillips) and Doon (Mackichan) were just so funny, and when was on I had to look at his forehead because he made me laugh too much.
Who makes you laugh?
My husband and my kids slate me all the time but they’re all very funny, and my mum, who’s Spanish, comes out with brilliant lines, as does my dad. He’s northern.
People often ask who my favourite comic is, and there are so many brilliant comics but I equally find hilarious people in everyday life, like the window cleaner, the woman in the supermarket checkout.
Could you ever be good friends with someone who wasn’t funny?
I’d find it difficult. I used to get a thing with some of the school mums who had absolutely no sense of humour.
A lot of them were into horses and one day, given that so many get shot during racing, I said, ‘Vet school must be really easy. Day one: this is a rocking horse. Day two: this is a real horse. The rest of the course must be gun etiquette.’ They didn’t think that was funny at all.
Fiona Allen: On The Run, August 4-20 (previews Aug 2-3),
