I first saw James Acaster performing stand-up comedy on a televised recording of an Edinburgh Fringe Festival show that showcased lots of different comedians. I was only a teenager and I love comedy, but a lot of it went over my head as I hadn’t experienced many of the things other comedians were talking about. But when I saw Acaster come on stage and start talking about Loch Ness Monster hoaxes, I was hooked.
His awkward persona and affinity for mustard yellow set him apart from the rest, and though I still didn’t understand all of his jokes, I was drawn to the way he approached immature subject matter with complete seriousness.
A couple of months later, I found out he was performing in the backroom of our local pub for £5 a ticket. My dad agreed to take me but then cancelled because he wanted to watch a football match. The next time I got the chance to see him live, the tickets were much more expensive and his popularity had sky-rocketed. Last year, he was listed in The Guardian’s article of ‘The 50 Best Comedians of the 21st Century’ at number four.
Since I first saw him perform, my love for stand-up comedy has blossomed, and even inspired me to volunteer at the Edinburgh Festival in 2018. I have seen hundreds of comedy performances live or on TV and have grown up to understand the material that went over my head as a young teenager. But still James Acaster remains my favourite comedian.
In between all the fantastical stories about being an undercover police officer and a lollipop man, he creates carefully crafted political and societal commentary that seems to come from nowhere.
Last year he streamed a recording of his latest show: ‘Cold Lasagne Hate Myself 1999.’ This show really confirmed for me the reason why he is my favourite comedian of recent years. Whilst his work has always shown him to be incredibly emotionally intelligent and honest, this show saw him reveal himself in a way which is rare amongst male comedians.
He talks openly about his mental health and his breakup with his girlfriend in a way that makes everyone watching comfortable enough to laugh along with him. I really respect and admire that, particularly in a time when millions of people are struggling with their own mental health in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic. And in a time where society is beginning to support the mental health of men and campaign to let men be able to talk about their feelings more than they ever have, Acaster’s frank discussions on his experiences with therapy feel like a step in the right direction.
His ability to be vulnerable on stage, combined with his unorthodox comedic approach, makes him likeable and relatable. I fully expect to see him become even more popular, and I’ll always be a little bit bitter that I never got to see him for a fiver.
Edited by Jemma Snowdon