My Family: Not the Sitcom

When David Baddiel’s Dad swears or does something offensive in public, the comedian whispers an apologetic: “Sorry, sorry, so sorry – he’s not well – he suffers from Pick’s disease.” But secretly, Baddiel admits, he knows the riotous behaviour has nothing to do with the illness – it’s just how his Dad always acted up – only amplified!

Now, artists have always mined their family trees for gold. But using parental material when one is suffering dementia, the other recently deceased, is a brave choice not many would make – especially in the stand-up comedy arena. But Baddiel subscribes to the tenet that laughter is the best defence – and his My Family: Not the Sitcomis a triumphant rampart.

It all starts with his Mum’s appearance on one of his early TV shows. And, if you’ve ever rolled your eyes as your Mother waded with abandon into ‘TMI’ territory – over-sharing intimate information – you ain’t seen nothing! Like all good Jewish Mothers, she’s naturally in his studio audience for many of his performances. Only, this time she volunteers to participate on camera and – well, inappropriate behaviour abounds. He cringes. Mum remains nonplussed. You can see where this is going – but there’s no nasty streak; you can tell he resigned himself to his Mum’s eccentricity years ago, so it’s a big warm shrug. Comedy delight ensues.

Part family history, part biography, Baddiel uses the show to examine his Mum’s identity, her Jewish background and her idiosyncratic ways. He despairs at her inappropriate use of “inverted commas” and overuse of exclamation marks!!! Now, punctuation pedantry is pretty funny, but when the subject matter of Mum’s correspondence is revealed, it really is comedy gold – let’s just say it is TMI – in bold capitals, underlined, italicised and drowning in asterisks.

As you suspect was the case in life, his Mum steals the show. But Dad’s antics support some laugh-out-loud material too. Although, it doesn’t take much for the tears to trip into emotive territory. While professing his exasperation with the situation, Baddiel acknowledges that we will all have our own stories in this difficult zone too. He uses his Twitter feed to frame the opener and closer – an invitation to continue the conversation, and contribute to an evolving show.

Like the best comedy, it’s not just observational – there is self-examination too. Baddiel does wrangle the elephants in the room: Should he worry that he has inherited his parents’ genes? Does he feel comfortable using all this material? What would his parents think? By the end of the show – to a standing ovation, extremely enthusiastic applause and more than a few tears – I think we all agreed that his Dad would be proud – and his Mum would have loved the limelight! Also, judging by the post-show conversations – people swapping notes about their own relatives – the show has served as cathartic therapy. And if laughter does extend a lifespan, then Baddiel and his folks have added at least a few more years to the Tivoli Theatre’s capacity crowd.

Beth Keehn