Jenny Eclair on jealousy, women being marginalised in stand-up and her warts-and-all memoir

Jenny Eclair made history when she became the first woman to win the Perrier Award in 1995. Prior to that, she'd starred in the Channel 4 sitcom Packet of Three with Frank Skinner and Henry Normal and later fronted the Grumpy Old Women franchise, which transferred from TV to touring internationally. Co-host of the Older And Wider podcast with Grumpy Old Women producer Judith Holder, she has also presented the spin-off Taskmaster: The People's Podcast with Jack Bernhardt, after appearing in the 15th series in 2023. Eclair has written six novels and recently published her memoir, Jokes, Jokes, Jokes. She embarks upon an accompanying tour this month.

How are the tour preparations going?

I'm really enjoying myself because I'm doing what I want to do. After writing the memoir, I've realised that I'm very cross about the comedy industry. The industry is absolute shit and it's taken me a long time to realise that it doesn't care about anybody. Unless it's making them pots of money. Even then, everybody is completely expendable. But that's actually very freeing, not trying to please anyone apart from myself.

It's a funny show. But it's not entirely stand-up. It's more of a slideshow with a narrative, the memoir through stand-up.

So are you able to improvise more than usual then?

It's really important to have gags as the cornerstones. There have to be enough big laughs. But it really doesn't matter if I drop some material one night and put something different in. I've got 40 years' worth. 

In the book, you recall previously feeling trapped by your onstage persona. Do you still feel that way? Or are you perhaps getting closer to the real you on stage?

Oh yeah, definitely. I don't have to psych myself up in the wings and emerge as a slightly different alter-ego. I am me on stage. My mother once said to me, 'why don't you just be yourself?' And I thought, well, that's ridiculous. But it's actually come true. I'm more myself than I've ever been. 

I mean, obviously, I'm a more interesting version of myself. Like most of us, I'm pathetically dull most of the time, very anti-social. The idea of going to a party or for a night out. Eurghh, I can't think of anything worse.

But I am much more at peace with what I'm doing and saying. The Nineties were a very interesting decade. It was quite mad. And socially, there was the ladette culture, there was the Loaded stuff going on, everybody was being harder, swearier, drink-ier, drugg-ier than anybody else. 

I knew I was on borrowed time. I knew that if I wanted to proceed into my forties, I could not continue wearing PVC trousers. Because there's something a bit tragic about it. Unless you're a rock 'n' roll queen. But even Madonna, you feel a bit sorry for her. I mean, well done love. But all that effort. I would have been pitiful at it.

I was struck by how much thought you've put into your appearance, your poster images, even your stage entrances. Why have they been so important?

Comics come from many different backgrounds and I went to drama school. I have very set drama school rules. I have to be at a venue an hour and a half before the show goes up. I'm very strict about the half. I don't want visitors after the half. I won't get into a lift after the half, just in case it breaks down. Really old-fashioned. But it's what I believe in. 

And I do believe in making an entrance and an exit. There are plenty of casual stand-ups, which is fine. But that's not me. I could never go on stage in a jumper.

And I live with a graphic designer. In terms of posters and things like that, I know the value of how things look. If you have a good photo, you've got more chance of getting on the front cover of a brochure for a regional theatre. It's worth the extra effort.

Have you got beyond the worry that you were 'acting' with your stand-up?

Yeah, I'm totally beyond that now. I never convinced myself as an actress. Even if I tried again, I'd still have the voice in my head saying, 'oh, look at you, pretending'. The more I can be myself on stage, the less I have that inner critic. 

Given the chance though, I would just do matinee shows to be quite honest. Only 3pm or 5pm shows for the rest of my life, I'd be very, very happy indeed. Sadly, that's not practical for touring. I have to get my old arse into a hire car and sit in the passenger seat doing tapestries until we arrive. 

You reckon that funny people are just born funny, right?

I do. There are loads of stand-up who are not necessarily funny. They know how to be funny and they're academically bright enough to pull the wool over everybody's eyes. But I don't think they're intrinsically funny. I won't be naming names.

You've described stand-up as a kind of mental illness. Do you think that the number of comics who've recently been diagnosed with autism or ADHD for example, suggests that it at least suits a different way of thinking?

I'm too old for autism or ADHD. I tried to fill in a form but got bored halfway through so didn't finish it. 

I'm very, very self-aware, very self-centred, very self-obsessed. And I think that's something I was born with. You see kids in playgrounds, on buses, doing stupid things with their faces. I was that kid. Always a show-off.

You took a relatively long time to accept that you were a comedian. And you seem to have always been a grafter, always had an eye for a side hustle. Is that fair?

Yeah, I've taken any opportunity because stand-up is quite a cruel business. I'm not a great all-rounder but I love doing television presenting. I love writing short stories for Radio 4. But those ships have sailed. Whereas stand-up is very much something I can still do. And I know I'm a good writer because I've read so many books that aren't as good as mine.

In the book, you reflect on being intimidated by the talent of people like Victoria Wood and Frank Skinner and the motivating role that jealousy has played in your career. Are you just being honest? 

I've got a massive streak of spite, jealousy and envy in me, more so than many people because I can be slightly victim-y occasionally. Sometimes I just have to go back and admit, actually, I wasn't good enough.

However, a lot of the time I was good enough and didn't get the opportunities. I can't go back and fix that. When I first came into the comedy scene, I felt very blocked by the Oxbridge lot. 

But then there were people doing really well that weren't from Oxbridge. So sometimes I just wasn't doing the right work at the right time. I didn't have the right voice, I don't know. I've kind of bobbed around in the middle but done some really good things.

Do you feel as if you've wasted a lot of energy battling prejudice from television commissioners? It seems as if it's only male and lesbian comics allowed to front travel shows, for example.

Straight white women occupy a little bit of that male, pale and stale space. It is time for other ethnicities to get a chance. And you know, with gay male comics, not everyone went as far as Julian [Clary] or Graham [Norton]. It's like there's a lucky finger that points at some people. They get the gig and the three or four behind them don't. 

In the Eighties and Nineties, when one woman got through the door, the door shut. The rest of us piled up behind.

Like black comics joking about waiting for Lenny Henry to die?

Yeah, it did feel like that. There was this triumvirate at the top, Jennifer [Saunders], Dawn [French] and Victoria [Wood]. And beyond that, it was as if other female comics weren't allowed to exist, more or less. I'm not blaming them. I'm blaming the industry. 

Still, it was all quite new. If you think about when I came onto the scene, the traditional male, working-class comic was on his way out, probably feeling very confused and bewildered by why nobody wanted to listen to him anymore. 

Then along we came. And some people were better connected, some were in the right place at the right time. And some of us just weren't ready. I think I'm quite a slow developer.

But as television's influence on comedy wanes, you're adapting, doing live shows of Older And Wider.

The live podcast shows are incredible. Older and Wider listeners are known as Owls and people dress up as them. It's definitely a community and it's really important for Judith and I to do it, for us as much as anyone. 

We get so many emails. Particularly during Covid, when people were in hospital, experiencing things like chemotherapy. They couldn't see anybody and were very, very isolated. I do think we are friends in their ears. 

And that's because we talk like people talk in real life. We have kids, we have grandchildren, pets and money worries. Disasters here, there and everywhere. Family things going wrong. The amount of support I got when my mother was dying! You can't let absolutely everything out of the bag. But it is a shared thing, definitely.

Has recording a podcast made you more honest and open on stage in general?

Absolutely. Honesty is the point of podcasts. I get really cross when the BBC say they make podcasts because they don't, they make radio shows. Everything the BBC churns out has to be within its rules and regulations. But if you're doing a podcast, there are no rules. The only thing that can stop you is that people stop listening. 

Not being duty-bound is also very freeing. We don't get paid for Older and Wider … well, after setup costs, the money is only just starting to dribble through. But I'm not beholden to anyone, there's no contract and it's kind of difficult to sack me. So because the money is non-existent, I don't have to worry about scripting it. 

Scripted podcasts are weird anyway, a waste. Why not try to get it on Radio 4? Why not write a drama? I think another point of a podcast is to find your niche, find the people who like what you say.

Did writing the memoir help with grieving for your mother?

June was ready to die. If she could flick a switch, she would have done it two years before. I didn't grieve her death, I was sad that what we had was gone. I'm not very sentimental about death. I think about my mother quite often but not every single day. She's such a part of my life and such a strong flavour, both my parents were. In some respects, the book is a love letter to them because I realised quite young that they were a lot more interesting than a lot of other parents. 

Or maybe every child thinks like that? I just never thought my parents were boring or stupid.

How warts and all did you seek to make Jokes, Jokes, Jokes? You write about being mildly unfaithful to your now husband, Geof, in the aftermath of winning the Perrier Award. Did you discuss that before the book was published?

No, we didn't. But he always knew. And I've never been able to apologise properly. So I thought I might as well just do it in the book.

Everyone's relationships are very different aren't they? Geof and I get on really, really well. I'm always so glad to see him, always so glad to come home and always so glad that he's there. The idea of him not being there absolutely terrifies me. 

I have a really strong relationship with my daughter Phoebe [Eclair-Powell] too, who's quite grown up and quite emotionally savvy. I think she understands that I had periods in my life where I was not really functioning as normal mothers should. But I made sure that she was really well looked after. And now she has her son, Arlo, who is, of course, the light of my life. I've got a lot of two-year-old in my life.

Are you prepared for your playwright daughter potentially writing about you?

Oh, she can do what she likes artistically. I would absolutely approve of anything Phoebe did because she's always had her own moral code. She's always been more moral than me and I wouldn't blame her for sucking on our bones at all. 

I can understand why Joe Biden pardoned his son. We have no morals when it comes to our children. We have no rules when it comes to Phoebe. She is a very, very successful writer, working for television now, with three projects on the go. She's a real grafter and I'm in awe of her as a worker and a writer.

You write about making Packet of Three and appearing in Auf Wiedersehen Pet. Do you harbour ambitions to make another sitcom?

No, I'm not a good enough actress. There are really gifted character actors and I'm not one of them. I'm a very strong personality and flavour of my own. I can adapt my personality and shut it off when writing novels. But when I'm in performance mode, whatever I'm doing, I'm some part of me. 

Monica Dolan and a lot of the actresses that did my Little Lifetimes on Radio 4, they almost physically changed in the chair. They were suddenly not themselves. I was really lucky to sit in a corner and watch some amazing British actresses do craply paid Radio 4 monologues I'd written, a highlight of my career. I love stand-up. But secretly, I'm more proud of that type of writing.

If there was an opportunity to adapt Little Lifetimes for television, would that interest you?

Oh yeah, I'd hand them over, definitely. I wouldn't want to be in any myself. Originally, that was what I wanted. And the producer said: 'Oh God no, I can get much, much better actresses than you'. And she got some of the most extraordinary actors we have today. She was right and I was wrong. 

What other TV ambitions do you have? In your last stand-up show, Sixty! (FFS!), it seemed like you were making a blatant pitch to get on Strictly Come Dancing...

No, the BBC aren't very keen on me at the moment. There would have to be a new controller or a clean sweep of controllers. I've never been asked and doubt I'm high on their list of priorities. I'd probably fall between the stools too because I'd try really hard and still be shit. But not quite shit enough to be hilarious. 

I've done a load of reality shows and I don't mind doing them at all. I've probably done more or less all of them to be quite honest. But I don't think Strictly's going to happen.

I'd love to do more presenting. I nearly got Bake Off. When I did Loose Women I got lazy, just sat on the chair and talked a bit. I wouldn't have done half the things I've done if I'd been stuck behind that desk for 10, 15 years. I'd have done fuck all.

You used to have an interview show for LBC, would that be the sort of thing you're after?

Oh yeah. And I'd love the podcast to be more successful. Doing both of my podcasts actually is where my heart is. I really enjoyed doing Taskmaster. I'm game for quite a lot, anything that's out there. But there are a lot of us competing now. And it's not just comedians. It's influencers, Instagram famous people. There a lot of people vying for these so-called celebrity slots.

Has appearing on Taskmaster changed your audience? 

No, not really. There are usually about four goths sitting on the front row, looking a bit confused. I can always tell. I look down and think, 'Taskmaster, Taskmaster, Taskmaster, Taskmaster'. And the rest is a sea of middle-aged women. 

My audience looks like they've come to sit for an afternoon matinee in the West End or to a garden centre. I'm really pleased that I'm a boomer hotspot.

What are your abiding memories of the show?

Oh, the potato hat was a glorious moment. I really enjoyed being in the studio too, once I got over the initial fear. Because when you've done so much comedy for people that like you, it's actually quite nerve-racking to suddenly be in front of an audience that doesn't know you from Adam. You have to hope they take to you.  

Do you get on easily with newer comedians?

Yeah, I used to give Red Richardson a lift to school. I met Amy Gledhill and Michelle De Swarte at a charity thing we were doing the other night. Everyone's very sweet. Helen Bauer lives round the corner, I've seen her on the bus. 

I'm very, very happy to chat. I like the people of stand-up comedy, the true comics. I don't think I've met many that I really don't like. Well, there are a few actually. And there's certainly material I don't like. But for the most part we have something in common. 

Did you and Amy compare your experiences of winning the Edinburgh Comedy Award?

I told her how it freaked me out. She's much more grounded, very much knows who she is. I gave her my number and told her she could always ring me if she's feeling a bit mad. I'll probably be calling her though. 

It's odd that there have still only been six women [winners] and two aren't really stand-ups now. I wouldn't call Hannah [Gadsby] a stand-up so much any more and Laura Solon's become a writer.

Did you feel you were carrying a burden of representation for women when you won it?

Very much so. As I say in the book, suddenly the press were calling me the country's most outrageous woman. When, in actual fact, I was just a mum who was good at swearing.

Are you as driven as you used to be?

Well, I can see the appeal of staying home more. I do a lot of artwork and I've actually sold quite a bit of it as well. I'm very distracted making toilet roll animals for my grandson. They appear in the new show. A lot of slides and toilet roll animals. Now that I've got over my fear of PowerPoint, it feels quite easy to change it around. But I've always liked having a structure. I'm a very structured comic. 

It seems as if Grumpy Old Women didn't end as you would have liked. Do you think you might revisit it one day?

I don't think there's ever going to be enough money. They were really Big Show and cost a fortune. A lot of people presumed we were sitting on stools, a bit like The Vagina Monologues. But we had big sets, lots of costumes and props, it was properly designed and lit. 

Having been an actress it's still very important to me how things look and sound. We had some absolutely golden moments. But we knew when to stop.

Your material has consistently been described as rude. Was that how your style organically developed?

It was the very early Eighties, I was a punk poet with this band and it's what I thought was funny. I've always found rude stuff funny. Once I'd found this niche, I felt I had to ride with it for quite a long time. 

I still think farting is hilarious and a good, filthy joke is a great thing. But I don't need to have so many these days. I need something that the audience understand, that they connect and sympathise with. If the audience hasn't been through something, they're never going to think it's as funny. 

Doing this show about family, it can't just be about mine. It's really about the universalities. It's about all of our parents and being brought up at a certain time. About your sister, your brother, your relationship, what we share.

Do you see yourself performing stand-up indefinitely?

I'd like a Sunday afternoon residency in a small West End theatre for quite a long time, like they do in Vegas. That would make me very happy.

You mention a harsh review by Chortle editor Steve Bennett in your memoir ...

Revenge is a dish best served very cold indeed. 

It wasn't that bad. And I did understand it, I knew exactly which gig he was talking about because it hadn't been good. I was still doing the occasional gig that could be off-putting back then and it didn't quite work. 

But he did go over-the-top. He was very rude and I think that was of its time too. I don't think a male reviewer would talk about a woman like that now because he'd get accused of all sorts of things. But we're all a product of society at a certain time. 

You couldn't be woke in the Nineties because nobody was, it's stuff we're having to learn. How to be nicer people perhaps. But without letting some of the, you know, edge, go. I don't blame anybody because we were all pretty vile for years and years.

You write about the old-school comics doing mother-in-law jokes who suddenly found themselves beyond the pale. And how the circumstances in which you lost your virginity might not be so acceptable today. Do you think we need to be more forgiving as a society about past transgressions? 

I do. I think that everyone should be given an opportunity to learn. And, you know, there are probably people sweating right now, thinking 'oh God, what did I do 20 years ago? Who did I upset in the industry? Will I be next?' 

If you continue to be a prick and don't learn, then you deserve your comeuppance. But I'm not going to suddenly track down the 22-year-old who I first slept with. I was a very willing, underage girl. I was a product of my time. My sister didn't do that though, she went to her wedding a virgin.

Is she happy with that being in print? 

She hasn't complained. She came round with some handwritten notes about some of the legal jargon I used about her late, QC husband. But that wasn't discussed.

How was writing about your anorexia? Will you be talking about that on stage? 

Oh, yeah, there's a little bit. It's quite well described in the book, most of the details are best left in there. I've always had a gag about it. You can make a joke about anything really.

You're open about those in the comedy industry you admire and those you truly detest. Did you worry about being so candid?

No, I didn't give a shit. I'm not saying anything that's particularly scandalous or scurrilous. I mean, Clement Freud's dead and everybody knows what he did. I'm a bit snotty about Paul Merton. We did know each other and we were friends, he lived with my friend Julie for a number of years. 

But in recent years, he's been very, very dismissive of me. I have no loyalty to him and won't do Just A Minute if he's on it. Which means I rarely do it. But I don't care and I don't care about him.

So, do you have anything planned for once the tour finishes?

I'd like an afternoon quiz show. A nice, fucking easy one, where are those for women? Where are they?! Apart from featuring Victoria Coren, who is not a stand-up. As is very evident I feel. But Only Connect is massively popular. 

Of course, Sandy [Toksvig] does QI, which is huge. I sat next to her at a book signing last week and she had queues around the block. I tried not to mind. However, there are still corners of this industry that women do not seem to have their fair share of.

And I would really like to knuckle down to another novel. I'll be really disappointed with myself if I don't manage another one in the next couple of years.

Would you ever explicitly fictionalise your comedy career?

Probably not. Because it would be a bit easy, one of those very see-through books. No, that doesn't excite me as an idea at all. I write fiction to get away from me.

• Jenny Eclair’s tour kicks off on Salford on January 25. Dates.

• Jokes, Jokes, Jokes is available from Amazon priced £16.52  – or from uk.bookshop.org, below, which supports independent bookstores.

Published: 6 Jan 2025