The darkness

Peter Baynham writing in the Guardian in defence of black comedy.

Incidentally, the article winds up by driving a wedge between the comedy and the person or persons behind it: "Sorry to destroy the fantasies of a certain kind of troubled man out there drawn to her disgusting alter ego Jill, but Julia Davis is a lovely, sweet, slightly unworldly person much more likely to plunge into a pond than whatever wheezing old hack wrote 'Mad About Alice'. I'll probably die for saying this, but Chris Morris, the twisted sicko behind 'Brass Eye', is equally delightful". This reminded me of Will Self's profile of Bret Easton Ellis (included in the collection 'Junk Mail'). Recounting his meeting with the American author, he explains that Ellis had found someone's wallet on the way to the interview, and, far from intending to use it for nefarious purposes as might be expected from the author of 'American Psycho', he was going to hand it in. As Self says: (something along the lines of) "The sick, twisted fuck".

It's that distance which is crucial, and which marks the difference between someone like Chris Morris or Stewart Lee and someone like Bernard Manning or Jim Davidson - contrary to the opinion expressed in this pretentious piece of guff about Baynham's article.