We continue our round up of pre Christmas treats, looking at another offering from the UK. This time Annette Slattery takes a look the autobiography of Scottish comedian Frankie Boyle, “My Shit Life So Far”.
Frankie Boyle is only 37, possibly a little young to be releasing an autobiography, but as the comic has recently announced that his final live tour will finish in 2010, perhaps it’s timely. And, after all, as the title suggests, it’s only Frankie’s life so far.
Frankie Boyle is often described by his friends as a sick, sick man. His is the blackest of black comedy, almost cruel in its clarity. He is unapologetic about his plainly spoken views and his jokes are often dragged up by the conservative set who like to whinge about “comedy gone too far”.
I’m always intrigued by how comedians get into comedy. This is because, to my mind, becoming a comedian is a completely mental thing to do, and that if you’re not properly mentally ill when you start off doing it, you soon will be. Don’t get me wrong, I also think that comedians are glorious, but gloriously teetering on the precipice of sanity. This is a point of view to which Frankie Boyle also seems to ascribe, at one point unfavourably comparing the mental ease of teaching newcomers at a comedy workshop, with his earlier job of working in an asylum.
As I say, as a comedy spaz myself, I love hearing comedians tell of their journey into and onwards with comedy. Frankie doesn’t disappoint in this regard. He tracks his sense of soul destroying despondency from high school, through his first marriage, his first jobs, alcoholism and drug abuse, almost cyclically finding himself teaching high school before he decides to chuck it all in and go on the comedy circuit full time.
He paints an often poignant picture of growing up in Scotland, of the inherent violence, poverty, and decrepitude of his childhood surroundings. There is a point in the book in which Frankie discusses the inherent racism in his home country of Scotland, but maintains that England is no better, and that Ireland is worse than both. Then he says:
Then of course, there’s Australia.
It kind of hit me in the guts to have it reinforced that we are viewed, internationally, as being endemically racist, but then I thought of the recent ‘black face’ performance passed off as ‘light entertainment’ on one of our major commercial television channels. And it makes sense that that’s how the world views us because it’s exactly that kind of ‘casual racism’ that is indicative of how deeply these attitudes are ingrained in our shared national psyche. Then I remembered that this book was released before that even happened. Fuck.
But of course, this Australia reference is really (or also) a platform for one of Frankie’s topical jokes which pepper the book. In fact topical discussion is quite prevalent in this book. Mixed in with biographical stories, these current and often political jokes and opinions are really to be expected when you consider Frankie’s experience, which includes graduating to a more political type of comedian as his career has gone on, and, his most high profile role in the UK, as a regular panellist on BBC’s Mock The Week (a bit like our Good News Week).
Frankie recently announced that he would be leaving Mock The Week. The official reason cited for this is that he wanted to concentrate on is own projects. However there is speculation, suggesting that he left Mock The Week due to the ever increasing public outcry whenever someone latches on to one of the oh-so-common “comedy gone too far” headlines in the rubbishy tabloids. His remarks about British Olympic gold medallist Rebecca Adlington, including saying that she “has the face of someone who’s looking at themselves in the back of a spoon”, whilst tame by Frankie’s standards, still raised a furor (if you don’t know what she looks like Google-image her, because he’s right you know). When there was a scandal involving Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand last year, commentators dredged up something Frankie had said on MTW two years earlier. When asked for “Things the Queen wouldn’t say” Frankie responded by saying “I am now so old that my pussy is haunted” (once again, he’s right, the Queen is really unlikely to say that).
Frankie’s fight against bland comedy is of relevance to us in Australia, as we’ve recently seen a dramatic increase in comics getting dragged over the coals for jokes, which are taken out of context and not borne in the spirit in which they’re intended. Notably, the commentators who keep trying to bring our comedians down are the same ones who seem to think that dancing in black face on television is okay, ‘cos they didn’t really mean it’.
Towards the later part of the book, Frankie inserts several segments of old scripts, most of which never made it to production, and probably for good reason. There is always a slightly jarring effect on the reader when they have to adjust suddenly from prose to script, adapting to a different pace in ones inner voice. Ultimately though these inserts are probably of more interest to Frankie than the reader and feel a little like filler.
At the end of the day the best things to recommend this book are the jokes, which are, at times, spleen rupturingly funny. His expert acidity, honed over years of writing, is almost scientifically targeted, and peerless in its damnation. Be warned though, you need a reasonably thick skin, Frankie has an opinion on just about everything, and he’s pretty much decided that everyone in the world, including himself, is an absolute cunt.
Frankie Boyle, My Shit Life So Far is available through Amazon