Comedians often brag about shattering venue ceilings, but Josh Widdicombe and Rob Beckett managed to do so without a single joke. On the very day their podcast Parenting Hell announced a live show at the O2 Arena, Storm Eunice decided to give the Greenwich venue a haircut.
This stormy metaphor suits the surge of podcasts sweeping through the comedy landscape. Despite accumulating over 50 million downloads while lamenting the loss of sleep and the trials of fatherhood, an arena tour was as unexpected as finding out your fridge is actually a portal to Narnia.
“I originally used podcasts as an excuse to avoid live comedy. Who wouldn’t want to work in their pajamas with a cup of tea?” Widdicombe quips. “Listeners, bless their hearts, have turned into demanding children,” Beckett adds, a hint of resignation in his tone.
Modern life loves a good podcast; it’s the new Swiss Army knife of entertainment—perfect for commuting, gym sessions, or even those sleepless nights when counting sheep just isn’t cutting it. Once a niche hobby, podcasts have morphed into revenue-generating powerhouses. Rumor has it that a podcast with 800,000 monthly downloads might just rake in over £20,000 in a month. Add ticket sales, and suddenly those discussions about diaper dilemmas could buy you a yacht—or at least a lifetime supply of baby wipes.
Rob Beckett and Josh Widdicombe have brewed a delightful mess with their parenting podcast
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Another podcast making a splash in live venues is My Dad Wrote A Porno. Imagine dissecting your father’s attempts at writing erotica about Belinda Blumenthal, the head of a pots and pans empire—sounds like a family gathering gone wrong. Fans have such dedicated enthusiasm that they attend dressed as characters from the stories. After selling out a five-night stint at the Palladium, they’ve even added an encore at the Royal Festival Hall.
Alice Levine, one of the podcast’s hosts, thinks the obsession is rooted in the “rawness” of the medium. “Listening to a podcast is like being in on an inside joke,” she explains, brilliantly capturing why people feel so close to their microphones. Live performances, she argues, are merely an extension of this special club; it’s less of a comedy show and more of a therapy session with drinks.
So what does this live podcasting explosion mean for comedians? Fellow comic Matt Forde has expanded into the live scene, interviewing politicians from all sides while humorously wielding a microphone like a sword. He claims the demand for depth and honesty has only strengthened. In a world of skimming headlines, people want to plunge into the deep end of discourse and awkwardness.
