The Laughter Business: How To Launch A New Comedy Club

New comedy nights pop up every week across Scotland. Most of them fade away quickly. We followed two new venues in Edinburgh as they search for comedy success
Feature by Bernard O'Leary.
Published 09 January 2012

“It all started when I had a brain hemorrhage,” says JoJo Sutherland, telling the story of how she became a comedian. “I nearly died and I thought that if I survived I should really do something with my life. I was a single parent with three kids on income support, so I thought, ‘fuck it’, did a stand-up course, enjoyed my first gig and never looked back.”

That was about eight years ago. JoJo’s built herself up since then, becoming a familiar face on the circuit and running nights of her own. A few days from now, The Shack on Rose Street will be launching as a weekend comedy club, giving JoJo her own venue in the Edinburgh city centre.

It’s happening at an interesting time. The Stand have extended their empire South of the border with a new 300-seater venue in Newcastle. Conversely, the Highlight chain of clubs have decided to abandon comedy altogether.

“It’s difficult to persuade people to come out and part with their money,” admits JoJo. “Some promoters have poisoned the waters because they’ve inflated the prices. I think you can keep the prices low, pay a decent wage and not piss everyone off.”

JoJo is passionate about the art of comedy and understands the industry. Talking to her, you get the feeling that if she can’t do it then no-one can.

“I’VE never done comedy before, that’s the really perverse thing about this.”

Elsewhere in Edinburgh, newcomer Helen Bywater is about to launch her own comedy night, to be known as Another Fine Mess. Despite having no experience, she’s going to MC the gig herself. “I haven’t prepared any material so it’s going to be a disaster. It’s a stupid venture from start to finish,” she says, “but there’s a fine line between brave and stupid.”

Luckily Helen has got pretty good organisational skills and has managed to assemble a great lineup of circuit acts and exciting newcomers for her launch night. She’s even blagged a top-drawer headliner with nothing more than charm and the offer of free food and board. She also has incredible belief in every aspect of this night (other than her own performance). “I want this to be like a strange comedy cult,” she says. “There aren’t enough nights in the weirdy, alternative end of things. I’d like it to be a massive Wendy House where people come in and play.”

Everything’s almost ready. Now she just needs to write some material.

WHEN comedians talk about ‘the room’, they don’t just mean walls and furniture. A good comedy room needs a certain kind of ambience: comfortable but not too comfortable, dark but friendly, preferably with a nice low ceiling to trap the laughter.

Walking into The Shack (formerly El Barrio) for the first time, you can immediately tell that it’s a great room. Just the right mix of grime and glamour as you sweep down a beautiful staircase into a nightclub that’s claustrophobic and huge at the same time. Hardback seats to keep the audience awake and a big stage with a classic radio mic under a dazzling spotlight. The only problem is that, with an hour to go until the big launch, it’s not ready. The workmen are rushing to erect the backdrop and hammer the last few pieces of stage into place.

JoJo is too happy to be nervous. “We’re quite close to the wire, but as long as we can get the builders off the stage, we’ll be good to go. Or else we might just include them in the show.”

Does this feel like the culmination of something? “It does. All the jobs I’ve had over the years, bar work, admin work, comedy, they’ve all come together into this. All those years of being directionless have finally paid off.”

The work finishes mere seconds before the first punters arrive, and suddenly JoJo’s dream is a reality.

HELEN'S room is also great in a very different way. This is the Royal Order of Antediluvian Buffalo’s meeting room, a Masonic Lodge-cum-Fringe venue above a youth hostel. The lights are too small and the sound system is too big, and Helen describes it as “the kind of place that chess clubs might have met in the 70s.”It’s perfect for comedy.

There’s not a lot of setting up to be done, so Helen is concentrating on her debut performance. “I’m at the Goldilocks level of nervousness,” she says. “At first I wasn’t nervous enough, then I was too nervous. Now it’s just right. I realise that I am an idiot. This is going to be like losing your virginity at a televised dogging party.”

The comedians arrive first and Helen gives them all a nice slice of lemon tart, because comedy is the new rock’n’roll. They seem unsure of what to expect. So does Helen. So do the audience, when they arrive

Soon the room is full and there’s nothing left to do except start the show.

DESPITE being different in almost every way, both nights are resounding successes. A massive crowd at The Shack makes the evening feel like a major event, while Another Fine Mess has exactly the feeling of weird, sweaty intimacy that Helen had been hoping for.

How did they pull it off? Well, there are some things that JoJo and Helen have in common, mainly their respect for comedians and respect for the audience.

“You have to make the audience feel like it’s their club,” says JoJo, “that they’re more than just a bum on a seat. We’ve put together a great room with people who are really up for comedy, and comedians want to do that kind of gig. They want to relax and try out new stuff, and do things that are creatively satisfying. You have to feel creatively satisfied in this job. Otherwise, it’s just a job.”

Helen is mainly just glad it’s over, although she’s also excited about where this will go next. “I’m glad this is a word-of-mouth, friends-of-friends thing. I don’t want people coming in here to get out of the rain. I want people who are really excited about comedy.” The comedians on the bill tonight have really connected with Helen’s shambolic, experimental ethos and taken more risks than they normally would, often with extraordinary results.

THE success of a comedy venue is down to one thing: whether people decide to support it or not. How the people of Edinburgh take to these new enterprises remain to be seen, but certainly they’ve both got the key elements right. The audience get good value for money, the rooms are good comedy venues and the performers have nothing to stop them putting on the best show they can.

These might sound like simple things but they’re often forgotten by poorly-run amateur nights or cynically-run professional venues. Great comedy clubs aim to make every gig a classic. That’s the spirit that’s made The Stand a success; that’s what should ensure success for JoJo and Helen. Anyway, as Helen says afterwards, “even if nobody comes, at least we’ll get to see some fucking great comedy.”

Comments (5)

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  • I feel the need to contradict you here but it is clear Helen Bywater has absolutely no respect for comedians whatsoever.

    Not paying them and then compereing the gig herself shows none of any of the performers any respect. Any decent gig needs a decent compere.

    Not some whimsical jumper biter, gittering on, no doubt boring the audience to tears about dropped stitches in her knitted shopping basket with absolutely no sign of a decent laugh on the horizon at all.

    This is precisely why certain clubs are no longer doing comedy due to the proliferation of poorly run nights with self indulgent sorts comepering the night scaring ordinary punters to the hills and saving their money in future to see a a face "off the telly"

    And to hand a comic a slice of lemon tart as remuneration? I'd tell her where she could shove it.

    Posted by Scott Agnew | Tuesday January 2012 @ 10:51

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  • Loving Jo Jo's attitude and organising know how, though, Scotty has a point ref Helen's approach. It's a bit like 'I haven't even got an idea for a novel I'm thinking of writing yet, but how hard can it be? I mean, I've read other people's stuff and I know this really famous writer so he/she's going to come along and write it for me for no more than a Gregg's Steak Bake and perhaps one of my Strawberry cup cakes which I haven't learned to make yet but how hard can it be? I've seen bakers on the telly.' Why is it that talented creatives are expected to perform for nothing but creative plumbers always get paid?

    Posted by Tartan briefs | Tuesday January 2012 @ 11:08

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  • I've been back to JoJo's club and Helen's night since writing this article and both are extremely well-run and good fun. Speaking to acts and audiences afterwards, I've found that they've both enjoyed the venues immensely. Good luck to JoJo & Helen and thanks to them for giving Edinburgh comedy a good kick up the arse. (We'll hopefully run something similar about what's happening on the West coast very soon).

    Scott: I've spoken to quite a few of the acts who've performed at Helen's night and they have all been extremely positive about the experience. A few other Pro comedians who've dropped in as punters have also been enthusiastic. It might be worth actually going to have a look before launching off on a rant.

    Posted by Bernard O'Leary | Tuesday January 2012 @ 12:05

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  • Writing as someone who has attended both Another Fine Mess events (so far) it certainly doesn’t have the air of exploitation and I don’t feel this “clear” lack of respect is in evidence at all at the event. What is comes across as is a genuine celebration of the local comedy scene and an attempt to create something with an ‘underground’ vibe where new and established comedians can try out new/untested/problematic stuff if they please without having to feel they’re short changing anyone expecting fully-formed sets.

    As far as I can tell, acts haven’t felt exploited with many actually returning from the first event to appear in the second, and other bigger name acts indicating on Twitter a desire to return. It’s a wider debate than just the world of comedy but, while obviously it would be great for everyone to get paid, doing these kinds of things unpaid is a phenomenon across many industries.

    How otherwise do you suggest a new low-key night gets off the ground? Inflate entrance prices to cover costs of paying the acts for a relatively small event and expect to still get an audience? Obviously if it takes off other options can be considered later on.

    Where the plumber analogy falls down is that a plumber will undergo and actually pay to receive training in their chosen industry before being able to charge the public for their services. Isn’t the equivalent of this training for new stand-ups doing unpaid spots to build up an act? I think there are far less exploitative places to do this than a night which, at its core, is run by comedy geeks for comedy geeks.

    As Bernard suggests above, it’s maybe worth coming to see the event before making assumptions about it. For what it’s worth, I think it’s an admirable attempt to help establish a thriving local comedy scene to sit alongside the local music scene.

    I wish both ventures every success in achieving this.

    Posted by Ross Maclean | Thursday January 2012 @ 10:38

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  • My comment above should read:

    "I think there are far MORE exploitative places to do this than a night which, at its core, is run by comedy geeks for comedy geeks."

    Posted by Ross Maclean | Thursday January 2012 @ 15:54

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