Snap, Crackle & Josh: Widdicombe’s Cereal Success
By Fred Spanner
“I think it says a lot about my career that I think I’ve worked with Mr Blobby ten times. It’s a visceral experience. Whatever ‘it’ is, he’s got it in spades. It’s a star quality that he has to this day. He’s one of the greatest underrated stars of our generation. I think it’s time for a reappraisal.”
If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if you crossed a pint of Devon cider with the world’s most relatable grumble, you get Josh Widdicombe. The curly-haired comic has made a career out of turning everyday issues into side-splitting gold.
He’s the lad who never pretends to be cooler than he is, the everyman who somehow ended up on primetime telly. Not a rock star, not a bad boy, but a bloke who can moan for Britain and still have you in stitches while he does it.
Currently on tour with his brilliant show, Not My Cup Of Tea, we caught up with Josh to talk Britpop, Beadle, and Branflakes.
You’ve been posting about eating cereal in the back of your car when you’re on tour. Have you had your breakfast yet?
It’s a post-gig celebration, really. I don’t see it as a breakfast. It’s a kind of wayward snack. Scott Mills was talking about it on the radio today. Cereal in the car: it’s set the nation on fire.
You moved house last week. How did that go?
You know, the house move was almost perfect. There were a few bumps in the road, but I’m absolutely buzzing that it’s over. I’m going to turn into one of those ‘I can’t believe I ever lived in London,” wankers.
Let’s take you back to the start of your comedy career, when you got to the final of the highly competitive So You Think You’re Funny competition.
Time has proven, it was a vintage year. A number of well-known comedians have come out of that competition. Sarah Pascoe, Doc Brown, Daniel Sloss, and Seann Walsh, to name a few. I came nowhere near the victory.
I remember Johnny Vegas saying he threw away the competition when he did it, as he didn’t have enough money to get drunk and bring out the persona.
I remember the first time I saw Johnny. He definitely brought out the personal that night.
I recall there was another competition you did for a rival publication back in the day, which you did win.
The FHM Stand-Up Hero! Me and Acaster are obsessed with this. I’ve still got the trophy. There were twenty-five comedians, all doing five minutes each, then we did the final. I’m pretty sure Chris McCausland was in it, but I can’t remember many of the others.
I won ten grand, which was- and still is- the most mindblowing financial experience of my life. The competition didn’t take place again, and I don’t want to brag, but that means I’m still the reigning champion.
The day after, I went to the Apple shop on Regent Street and bought myself a laptop, and I thought, “It doesn’t get any better than this.” Then I went to a gig, and Rob Beckett was on. I didn’t really know him then, but he still maintains I was a total wanker for turning up to it with my new laptop.
You’ve had a lot of success in competitions. You’ve won Taskmaster, Celebrity Mastermind, and The Million Pound Drop, to mention just a few.
I’m dangerously competitive, and it does come out in those shows. But I also like facts. I’d spent my entire life learning all these useless facts, and then I finally got onto Celebrity Mastermind and it all paid off. I like that quiz shows have stood the test of time. They’re eternal, and people love that kind of thing.
I’m always excited to do those shows. Catchphrase? Loved it! I did You Bet the other day.
In your book, Watching Neighbours Twice a Day, you mentioned that Bruce Forsyth used to rap at the end of You Bet. Did you fancy having a go?
I think when something’s done so perfectly the first time, you can’t follow it. That’s why I wouldn’t rap on World In Motion. John Barnes was best left to it.
I remember Bruce saying he hated himself as the character ‘Bruce Forsyth’, insisting it was just a persona.
I think there are a few people you could say that about. You have to turn it up a bit on TV. I think there’s more of that than we’d like to admit. We’re all a bit Bruce Forsyth.
They do say, “Never meet your heroes,” but you met one of yours recently, and I’m hoping he was the same in real life as he is on the telly. How was Mr Blobby?
He’s everything you want him to be and more. I think it says a lot about my career that I think I’ve worked with Mr Blobby ten times. It’s a visceral experience. Whatever ‘it’ is, he’s got it in spades. It’s a star quality that he has to this day. He’s one of the greatest underrated stars of our generation. I think it’s time for a reappraisal.
Of those I haven’t met, I’d love to meet Paul McCartney.
What was Rick Astley like to interview? He seems like a top bloke. Are there any questions you didn’t get round to asking him?
He’s such a nice guy. I didn’t have the guts to ask him about Johnny Marr slagging him off doing The Smiths covers. He was too nice. I also didn’t ask him about making the tea at Stock, Aitken and Waterman.
How good did it feel to sing Parklife on the Radio Two stage?
It was absolutely terrifying. I don’t know why I was so scared. I mean, what could have gone wrong? They say you should take yourself out of your comfort zone once in a while. I think it’s better just to stay in it. It’s surprising how often you find yourself hanging around backstage, asking yourself why you do this job. I guess it’s the price you pay for meeting Mr Blobby ten times.
When I meet a member of Blur, I have this awful sensation that I know more about them than they do. I don’t know if they find it endearing or terrifying. I find that period of time in the 90s so endearing and exciting. So much more exciting than the times we live in. I’m cursed with being born ten years too late.
Your book, Watching Neighbours Twice a Day, highlights some of the best TV shows of the 90s. Let’s chat about a few of them. Let’s start with Gladiators.
The curse of being well-known in that show is that you weren’t even famous by your own name. Hunter has made an appearance on The Last Leg a few times. I can’t remember why we first booked him, but then it became a running joke: “Let’s book Hunter.”
He’s a great bloke and very amenable to what we wanted him to do on a Friday night. A top guy. I think the people I’m in awe of, who I admired when I was growing up, aren’t really the people you should be in awe of, traditionally. So when I go on Graham Norton, I feel more comfortable, because film stars don’t excite me as much as someone who’s been on Gladiators.
Anyone who was on TV in the 90s leaves me completely tongue-tied.
I love the relaunched Gladiators and my kids are into it, too. It’s perfect family entertainment because the kids love the new show and parents remember the old one.
Ghostwatch was one of those shows that everyone remembers. Even if it’s because Michael Parkinson ended up getting possessed at the end. I remember buying into it until I realised the daughter in the show was so obviously acting..
She was terrible, wasn’t she? But I still think it was one of the greatest shows of my lifetime. The audacity of the whole thing. Whether they expected it to play out in the way that it did, I’m not sure, but if a TV show is meant to have an effect on you, this one does. I don’t think any TV show affected a generation in the same way that Ghostwatch affected ours. I would implore you to go and rewatch it. If you can sit through it without shitting yourself, you’re a better man than I am.
You can’t really do that kind of thing these days, with social media and all that. It was at a time when people simply sat at home engrossed in their television, aside from phoning your friend on a landline and asking them if they thought it was real.
Something else you might struggle to put on TV these days is Beadle’s About.
They don’t really do much of the hidden camera stuff these days. It was so incredibly popular, and Beadle seemed to be so incredibly hated; it’s such a strange way to live your life. It’s a bit like Piers Morgan, who thrives on upsetting people. That wasn’t Beadle’s intention, maybe, but telling someone an alien has landed in their garden must have been upsetting.
It was the disguise of having a fake beard on top of his real beard that got me. Do you think it was an in-joke?
I don’t know. Do you think Beadle was winking at the camera? Maybe by the time he turned up, they had enough footage and thought, even if they realised it was him, it was okay. I don’t think he needed a beard in real life. I mean, you see David Tennant committing to a part with a huge beard, Beadle should have shaved it off.
The best episode of The Simpsons was…
Probably the Stonecutters one. Or the Monorail. But, to be honest, it was 100 episodes of pure gold in the first ten seasons.
On Who Do You Think You Are?, you discovered you were descended from royalty. Should I address you as ‘Josh’ or do you have another title now?
Well, the thing is, I knew about the Barings Bank heritage. I think if thousands of people had died and Nick Leeson hadn’t lost all the money, I’d have been an heir. I’d also have been the prime suspect in a serial murder case.
I knew nothing of the Royal line. Before you go on the show, they ask you everything you know about your heritage, so everything they tell you is fresh. So it was all a bit shocking, really. It’s up for historical debate as to whether I’m a descendant of Henry VIII. If he had a child with Mary Boleyn, it would make me a nepo baby.
The Last Leg was a show that really captured the public’s spirit at the time it was first broadcast. You’ve got over 300 episodes in the bag now. Did you expect it to be such a big hit?
It was originally supposed to be a ten-day thing on E4. Me, talking about comedy and sport, and being an able-bodied person: this must have sounded like a career-ending opportunity. I think one of the reasons people love it is that no one was told it was going to be big. It made people think, “Well, go on. Impress me.” I think people like to find things for themselves.
8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown was another that was supposed to be a one-off, and it’s still going. People will always decide what they like, rather than be told what they like.
Your current tour, Not My Cup of Tea, is ongoing. What can we expect?
There’s no politics. Nothing about what’s going on in the world. No moment of learning. No depth. But it is pure, observational stand-up comedy, and as funny as I can be for 75 minutes. In my view, that’s the maximum amount of time before people start to go, “Okay mate, that’s enough.”
I think people find me most funny when I’m baffled or annoyed at life. Which is fine by me. Luckily, no one is interested in what I’ve got to say about the world.
You can grab your tickets at joshwiddicombe.com.
