The Ginger Wizard of WTF: Alasdair Beckett-King Conquers Comedy
By Fred Spanner
“In the show I’m working on now, I talk about psychic mediums who claim to put you in touch with loved ones who have passed. I think there’s a business opportunity being missed. What we really need is a medium who can actually communicate with your dad while he’s still alive.”
If Gandalf ditched Middle-earth for a flat in London and started doing stand-up about cereal, Netflix docs and the end of civilisation, you’d basically get Alasdair Beckett King. The flame-haired comic, animator and all-round internet sorcerer has been quietly conquering the comedy world with the sort of surreal, hyper-literate jokes that make you wonder whether he’s a time-travelling Victorian or just really committed to the bit.
With his YouTube sketches racking up cult-hero status and a live act that swings from razor-sharp satire to gloriously daft nonsense, ABK is the unlikely comedy crusader we didn’t know we needed. Strap in—this is posh-nerd chaos at its finest.
How are you doing, mate?
I’m doing great, thanks. As an autumnal gentleman, I’m enjoying the transition from autumn to winter. I melt in the summer heat, so this is my favourite time of the year. Once it starts getting chilly, I’m very, very happy. Whatever the opposite of S.A.D. is. If the sun doesn’t come out all day, I’m like, “YES! GET IN!” You can only be cosy in the winter.
Your whole vibe is “Victorian gentleman accidentally trapped in 2025.” Is that intentional, or did the beard just get out of hand?
I’m equally flattered as I am insulted by that question. Haha. I'd feel trapped in 2025. I think a lot of people do. I suppose 75% of that is just what I’m like. 25% is an exaggeration for the purposes of comedy.
I like to present my stand-up as if it’s deliberately out of time. When there are cultural references in it, they’re often deliberately out of date. I like to make my pop culture references slightly obscure.
If you had to describe your act without using the words “weird,” “whimsical,” or “ginger wizard,” what would you go with?
The only word you can use is “whimsy”, and I’d like to defend “whimsy” in comedy. Gritty, northern whimsy is the way I’d describe it. People think they don’t like whimsy, but I think what they do like is being surprised—things like flights of fancy and surrealism.
You’re known for being clever and daft. What’s the secret to balancing satire with total nonsense?
I love that question. It’s quite a compliment. I think I come across as being quite clever, but in real life, I am a bit silly and often make mistakes. I’m trying to pitch for that balance of clever/stupid: something that sounds clever, but is really, really stupid. It’s great for comedians to deliberately misunderstand things that everyone else understands.
I think it’s the best way of revealing the absurdities in everyday life.
What’s the oddest thing someone has ever said to you after a gig? Bonus points if it kept you awake at night.
I get a lot of weird compliments after gigs, but sometimes you think, “I wish YOU hadn’t given me that compliment.”
I used to do a joke where I compared myself to John the Baptist, who was famously beheaded. There was a bit where I mimed the beheading. There was a guy who shouted, “Hey! Do the Jesus head bit.” I’m like, “Have you even been paying attention? Do you think Jesus was beheaded?” It’s difficult to take positive feedback from someone who has so fundamentally misunderstood what you were saying.
I’ve heard you say you’re an atheist, but you don’t like to be a dick about it.
I was an insufferable, teenage atheist, I must confess. I read a couple of Richard Dawkins’ books and came away from them wondering why anyone believed in things like that. As I’ve aged, I’ve started to realise that being kind is more important than being right. Also, we all have things we believe in that aren’t really evidence-based.
I have hope for the future of humanity, but I can’t demonstrate any evidence to support it. It’s not a rational belief. It’s an irrational one, but I’m holding onto it because I choose to. So, all of that sung, self-congratulatory atheist stuff no longer appeals to me.
In the show I’m working on now, I talk about psychic mediums who claim to put you in touch with loved ones who have passed. I think there’s a business opportunity being missed. What we really need is a medium who can actually communicate with your dad while he’s still alive. Breaking down that barrier is a much bigger challenge, I think.
What’s the best gig you’ve ever done?
I think a lot of comedians are like this, but I really struggle to remember the good gigs. I think I’m good at comedy, and I do make people laugh, but the bad gigs just loom large in your mental landscape.
I always encourage laughter at any point during a gig. They don’t have to wait for the punchline. If people don’t laugh when I expect them to, I just assume they’ll start laughing later in the week.
The good gigs fade into the background. I still remember the first time my parents saw me. I died on stage, it went terribly, and I thought I saw a ghost at one point.
The first time my dad heard me tell a joke, it was on the radio, and he liked it. I never thought my dad would like my comedy as he’s from Manchester and he likes ‘proper’ jokes, about normal things. He doesn’t like pretentious, middle-class comedy. So that was really pleasing.
Your stand-up is great for those like me, with low attention spans, as you have regular Family-Guy-style cutaways.
I’ve always had a multimedia element to my shows, and I do a lot of sketches online too. I think a lot of people come to my shows not knowing what to expect, having seen my YouTube videos.
I told my YouTube subscribers that I was about to embark on a UK tour. Someone replied, “Doing what?” I wonder if some people think my videos are documentaries.
I was a stand-up before I started doing sketches online, but I think some people think I’m just going to play my sketches at the gigs. It’s like a musician who makes an album, and when they tour it, they do a bit of chat, then a song, more chat, then another song. I’ll do five minutes of stand-up, then a video, then another ten minutes, followed by another video. I think it breaks it up nicely.
I like to do something that’s a bit clever, but at the same time, it has to be inclusive, so it feels like we’re all being really smart.
What’s this I hear about you killing off Mock The Week?
Yes, it’s gone. The BBC said I was too funny and that kind of thing wasn’t allowed on television, so they pulled the plug on it. Not quite accurate, but I was on the final episode. I never thought I’d be on the show, and neither did anyone who’s ever met me.
I’d watched the show for about twenty-odd years, so to end up being on it was a real treat. I was a bit galling, but at the same time, I thought this could be great for my comedy career. Then they said they weren't going to make any more. On the plus side, people have come to see my shows after seeing me on Mock The Week.
I loved doing the improv show, Wing It, on Radio 4. I’m not a trained improviser, but thankfully, I was just the host. It was such a low-pressure gig to just sit and read off cards.
You’re heading off on tour in 2026 with your show King of Crumbs. What can we expect?
When you start to write a show, you always have these big ideas about what you want to express. You think you’re going to take down the establishment and tear open the beating heart of humanity. When it comes down to it, the jokes tend to actually come from the most mundane things. So I always end up being led by the jokes, which take me into weird alleyways.
So, I always end up with a show asking questions like, “Who watches the Watchmen? Who milks the milkmen?” The kids of questions humanity has asked itself all these years. That’s the theme of the show, really. I start out wanting to talk about something that’s really big and important, but I end up talking about silly things instead.
It’s the December issue, so what would you like for Christmas? Not that I’m getting you anything, mind.
Well, now I’m not going to get you anything. As an atheist, I absolutely love Christmas, of course. I’m a terrible Christmas shopper, though. I like the timeless day before Christmas. You’ve finished work for the year, it’s not Christmas yet, and you end up in this timeless bubble. That’s my gift to myself. I don’t want the socks and books.
A day of watching old movies, wrapped up in a blanket, is my ideal Christmas. Back to being cosy again. A friend of mine described my show as being ‘cosy’. Do you know what? If I’m a blanket, I’ll take it.
New Year’s Resolution?
To end all wars through my comedy.
Tickets for Alasdair Beckett-King’s tour can be found at abeckettking.com.
