Fern Brady knows she comes across as rude and cynical, which she ascribes to her autism (as discussed in her excellent and revealing memoir Strong Female Character) and overcompensation for her IRL insecurities.
It gives her a brutally cutting sense of humour, which in her Latitude set is turned against herself as much the awful people she encounters, such as stag dos. Much of her focus here is on encroaching middle age, accepting that, at 37, ‘certain things are not going to happen for you’ and facing up to her changing body, hilariously reminiscing about its glory days when she worked as a stripper in her native Edinburgh.
Decline turns to darker thoughts about death, euthanasia and locked-in syndrome. We’re a long way from the jollity of Taskmaster that’s brought her a larger audience.
Yet all the bleakness and negativity is depicted as being pragmatic and realistic, and there are a few flickers of optimism in there, however counterintuitive that seems. For example, she may hate the idea of a wedding – all those feelings on show – but believes she’s in her relationship for the long haul, if only because she can’t deal with the emotional admin of dating again.
She questions the platitude that her autism should be seen as a superpower, but in her comedy it’s undoubtedly an asset, allowing her to cut to the heart of the matter, unencumbered by euphemisms and niceties. It makes for an abrasive persona that’s not necessarily the easiest to warm to - but also some piercingly astute lines.
