“I’m just here because I can’t afford therapy.”
At any given open mic there’s a decent chance you’ll hear a comedian making reference to comedy being ‘cheaper than therapy’. There’s a San Francisco comedy club of that very name. It’s not even hack; it’s just facts. Many comedians find that writing and performing has therapeutic effects for myriad reasons. It’s raw, it’s intense; it creates connection and strips you bare. Poking fun at pain can take the sting out of it. It can, as a result, be wildly addictive.
But recently there have been a couple of Barcelona comedians putting a slightly different spin on comedy as therapy.
Michelle Ahern — ‘We’ve Had a Good Run’
Michelle Ahern is taking her solo show, We’ve Had a Good Run, to the Edinburgh Fringe this year. It’s pretty impressive for someone just over 18 months into comedy.
Michelle started writing jokes as a direct response to a deeply traumatic experience. The absurdity of the situation she found herself in prompted her to tell her then-husband, “This is like a bad movie script, or a show. I’m gonna write this. I’m gonna turn this into a show.”
For Michelle, the idea of doing just that became “something to grab onto”. After leaving Australia to travel, the idea started taking shape. In November 2022 she attended a 5-day comedy course at Angel Comedy Club in London, where she first took to the stage, and she had the realisation that “it was the most ‘me’ I’d ever felt”. Michelle asked her teacher and mentor, Dec Munro, a creative director for Edinburgh shows, “How ludicrous is it of me to think I could write and perform a show at Edinburgh?”
Michelle Starts to Create Her Show
Together they mapped out a timeline, and Michelle subsequently moved to Barcelona where she quickly became a familiar face at open mics. A hardworking comedian, never afraid to try new things, she was soon an integral part of the scene; she moved quickly to snagging showcase spots and featuring in format and sketch shows. She took over hosting duties from her friend and mentor, Kyla Cobbler, for the Friday night mic at Space Cowboy, a famously challenging room. It was fast work, made all the more possible by this effervescent Aussie being a warm, open, and supportive member of the comedy community, always ready to work the door, film your set, or help you workshop a joke.
Michelle had her comedy goal firmly set from the start—she had a story to tell and she was going to tell it. At the Edinburgh Fringe. This year. And it’s this that sets her apart: she didn’t take the common route of starting standup, playing around, discovering comedy’s therapeutic capacity, finding her voice, honing her craft, and at some point starting to write about traumatic experiences. She started comedy with this specific goal in mind, put in the stage time that she needed to become competent and confident onstage, and then used that as a pretty giant stepping stone to writing an hour-long show to tell this particular story that she not only wanted but needed to tell—one that she knew no other (or at least no better) way of unpacking and processing.
“ … I felt like I had my home, my relationship, my family taken away through other people’s choices,” Michelle shared. “I felt so powerless. But I also had an overwhelming sense of wanting to tell my story. I felt like I was being erased from my own life and I was determined to not feel irrelevant. I needed to talk about what was happening. I wanted to reclaim my story.
“It was an incredible feeling, to grab the microphone and start talking. Whether it was about the big stuff that was going on, or just everyday things—every time I stood on that stage and shared, and laughed and connected, it gave me a sense of purpose … At a time in my life where I felt I had nothing, I was empty and alone, comedy gave me something to hold on to. It was a life raft and I knew I just had to fucking paddle. I’m not going to be irrelevant in my life. I am telling my fucking story.”
Where Is ‘We’ve Had a Good Run’ Now?
We’ve Had a Good Run is the story of her husband’s affair and the chain of events it set in motion. Her show’s blurb reads: “One minute you’re a wife and step-mum, living in Australia. Next thing, you’re naked, eating soup in Spain. WTF happened and why is someone trying to sue her?” It is funny, heart-shattering and utterly compelling. As one fellow comedian commented, “This show will change you.”
There’s plenty of comedy in there, and a lot of fun audience interaction. There are sock puppets. Michelle’s natural warmth, confidence and charisma are massively bolstered by her trial-by-fire MCing experience at her weekly mic, often a wild ride of a show. You will laugh your flip-flops (or thongs) off. But this show also wrenches your heart out. Down partly to the sheer shocking events, and partly to the trust and camaraderie that Michelle skillfully builds in the room, the audience feels her grief. We laughed together and we cried together. And everyone who sees this show is playing a tiny part in a person’s healing process. I think that’s rather special.
Iain Anderson: ‘Traumedy: A Guide to Being a Fabulous Homeless Addict’
Iain Anderson is even greener; he joined Barcelona veteran Chris Groves’ Find Your Funny comedy course in April 2023 and did his first open mic at Secret Comedy Club on July 8th. Just over a year later, having gigged his way up to a split hour in just eight months, he’ll be taking his solo show, Traumedy: A Guide to Being a Fabulous Homeless Addict, to Edinburgh for a full run. Ambitious stuff.
Like Michelle, Iain had a story burning a hole in his chest that he wanted to get out. As the name suggests, it is also a tale of trauma, with some deeply moving and poignant moments. But in contrast, his is a much older story: it’s the shocking but hilarious account of his descent into addiction, homelessness, psychiatric hospitalisation and eventual recovery. July 13th, 2024, marked his 7th clean-and-sober anniversary. It also differs from Michelle’s show in that it features none of his previous comedy material. And yet the laugh rate is incredibly high.
Iain is a natural storyteller with a healthy dose of that good old Celtic gift of the gab: quick-wittedness, charisma and a lethal turn of phrase. There’s also a strong but playful defiance about him, which may or may not be the result of growing up gay in ‘90s Glasgow. Most of the laughs throughout the show arise from the absurdity of situations he recounts in his naturally funny way, through the lens of redemption and healing, evincing the oft-cited equation that “comedy is tragedy plus time.”
Iain Anderson Was Inspired Long Before Starting Comedy
One gets the impression that Iain could have told this story without ever setting foot in a comedy club. In fact, it turns out he had been thinking about it for years:
“ … A few years ago I had the idea to do a one man show, but more like a motivational speech kind of thing. I had been talking about getting into comedy for ages and done nothing about it, and once I did, I met Michelle [Ahern], who was already getting the idea for her show together. After chatting to Michelle and saying I would define my life as a ‘traumedy’, the planets just aligned and the idea was born. I guess before standup I had hopes of one day my story being useful, but probably not funny.”
And thus comedy became Iain’s vehicle to deliver this genuinely inspiring story, with his short but intense standup career to date providing him with the chops and stage presence to drive it home more effectively. He’s already worked through his trauma. In fact, his standup persona jokes that, “I’ve been through trauma. You know how I dealt with it? Quietly.” This show acts more as therapy for the audience than for the comedian. It has a powerful message that I personally found unbelievably timely and significant. I can’t tell you how it will make you feel, but I hope it will make you see certain things (and people) differently.
How Iain and Michelle Come Together
And so, two very different comedians with very different stories to tell, for very different reasons. Both manage the delicate balance of trauma and comedy well by virtue of their likeability, magnetism, and authenticity. They have become great friends, and have encouraged and supported each other throughout this whirlwind trajectory. Michelle, at one point, invoked Hillel the Elder and a host of US presidents, asking Iain, “If not us, who? If not now, when?”
At first glance it seems a mite grandiose, but for me, her meaning is clear. These are their stories; nobody else can tell them. And hey, there’s no time like the present.
Catch Michelle and Iain’s shows on Barcelona’s Fringe Day, July 20.
During the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, We’ve Had a Good Run will run from Aug. 12–25 at Laughing Horse @ Eastside daily at 15:20. Traumedy: A Guide to Being a Fabulous Homeless Addict will run from Aug. 3–25 (not 7, 14, 21) at PBH’s Free Fringe @ Kafe Kweer 15:45.
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