Big Bucks for Chuckles
The BBC has decided to throw a staggering £10M ($12M) into the chaos of comedy funding over the next two years. Director Jon Petrie, fresh off his six-month beauty pageant for a gig—dubbed the BBC Comedy Festival—has promised that this cash influx will help cover “rising costs.” Apparently, running out of raw materials for laughs is a bona fide concern.
Petrie described the extra funds as a “sizeable increase,” which is probably BBC-speak for “we’re still not a Netflix budget, but we’ll try.” As if preparing for the annual family reunion awkwardness, he expressed feeling “very lucky” about the funds, right before heading off to Newcastle to show the world just what British comedy is—awkward pauses and all.
Curiously, this windfall arrives as the BBC plans to make some major cuts—£1.5BN ($1.85BN) worth—over the next five years. Director General Tim Davie has reassured us that this will involve reducing commissions rather than cutting entire services. Because who needs a full show when you can just have a half-hearted pilot marooned in the network’s Bermuda Triangle?
Petrie has announced that a chunk of this newfound wealth will go toward co-productions—oh joy—where everyone gets to hold hands and sing “Kumbaya” with U.S. networks and streamers. With hits like Stephen Merchant’s The Outlaws and Rose Matafeo’s Starstruck, it seems the BBC is playing a high-stakes game of comedic poker, betting big that American audiences will find British awkwardness endearing.
The comedy festival promises to unveil a 10th anniversary special of Jack Whitehall’s Bad Education, which was originally a comedy series and is now essentially a forced reunion tour. Whitehall will return as everyone’s favorite incompetent teacher, Alfie Wickers, before promptly bailing to focus on a new season featuring a fresh cast—because let’s face it, nobody wants to age on live TV.
And in a burst of nostalgia, the beloved sleeper hit, Detectorists, will return for a 75-minute special. Five years off the radar, it’s basically the comedy equivalent of pulling a participant off the bench just before the last five minutes of a game that nobody’s watching.
Petrie has ambitious schemes beyond just rolling out more episodes of previously loved shows—he plans to double the number of pilots, introducing a new banner known as BBC Comedy Short Films. Are they better funded? Absolutely! Will anyone actually see them? A resounding maybe, as he confirmed these gems will bypass traditional TV screens like an awkward third date.
With the British comedy landscape shifting, Petrie is conscious of the need for maximum impact on iPlayer while also embracing the art of TikTok, where fortunes can be amassed from your bedroom with little more than a smartphone and an overpriced ring light. Who needs years of experience or a polished script when there are millions of cute cat videos to compete with?
As Petrie assembles his new commissioning team, one must wonder: is he aiming for the next comedy greats, or just rolling dice in a game of fine art? Only time will tell if this larger-than-life budget actually results in belly laughs, or if it’s just a charming illusion—like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat and promptly forgetting where they put the rabbit.
