Ali Woods – What’s Your Problem

What’s Your Problem? is a podcast recorded at the Big Belly Comedy Club, where we try to figure out what’s wrong with comedians that makes them want to tell jokes on stage. 

Ali Woods is a half-English, half-Scottish comedian. Ali won Hackney Empire New Act of the Year 2020 and has appeared on BBC Radio 4, TalkRadio, TalkSport. He has recently released a special, Best Friend Ever, and has his own podcast, All I Do Is Fail. Interviewed by Lance Carter. 

Ali Woods, what’s your problem?

I was just too popular at school, that was my issue. I had too much self esteem. The problem with me is I never needed anyone else’s approval, so I just do it as a charitable thing because I’m so talented…

It feels like a lot of comedians have similar issues. I feel like I’m quite a needy person, I want to be validated, I want people to like me. 

I think it’s a Bruce Springsteen quote, that people who excel think they’re brilliant and worthless at the same time. A lot of comedians have that. It’s a very interesting dynamic of people you meet in comedy because they’re slightly introverted or socially awkward, but then they also have this desire for a whole room of people to look at them and listen while they talk about themselves.

So that’s where I land. Growing up I just wanted to be liked, and I have this ego that lets me feel like I am good at comedy, I can make people laugh, so that’s why I wanted to be a comedian.

But the reason I’m now a comedian is because it takes a lot of work to get here. My mom was a big believer in not wasting your potential, you’re very lucky to be here and you’ve got to make the most of it. So I’m always feeling like I should work more all of the time. Every hour of each day I’m thinking about what I should do in this next hour that’s going to be the most effective and efficient, and then just beat myself up!

That makes a lot of sense. I always liked standup because I get to be social in a very controlled way. I know exactly what I’m going to say, and everybody else has to sit there and listen to it.

I agree with you. Comedians are excellent at one sided conversation, that’s why so many blokes do it, because you just get to say exactly what you want to say and everybody is like “That was brilliant” – it’s the dream!

So I think that encourages people like ourselves, who feel like we’ve got something to say, but actually, maybe in social situations might not be the most willing to go and dominate a conversation. 

When did you realise you were the funny guy in the room, and that it was maybe something you could do in front of an audience?

Even now I rarely feel like I’m the funny guy in the room. I feel like I am the guy who really cares that he’s funny, the guy who’s trying hardest to be the funny guy in the room. 

That thirst for constantly making jokes in any sort of conversation, I think I’ve always had. I can’t remember a time where I’ve thought “you know what, I’m just gonna listen.” I’ve always been thinking about my next angle, worrying that I haven’t said anything in a while, I’m dropping off, I need to come back in with something funny. 

Since doing stand up, I’ve sort of lost that constant, relentless urge to be funny all the time with people, because I know I can go do this for two or three hundred people on the weekend. I’ve just done that last night, so I don’t need to impress this small group.

What influenced your early sense of humour?

My dad has to take a lot of the blame, he’s very much a part of this problem. He was fundamental in drilling the idea into me that being funny is a huge asset, and that one of the most important things in life is to be funny, to make people laugh. 

He’s a huge admirer of comedy, and he always fancied himself as being funny. Unfortunately for him, my mom’s actually the funnier one, even though she doesn’t like comedy as much. She’s just got a very dry Scotch sense of humour. 

So from an early age, he would get me to watch stuff with him. Monty Python’s Life of Brian, I remember like being one of the first comedy films that I sat and watched with him after I started to get past kid’s cartoons and Disney.

I think that transitional show was the Simpsons, because it was on every single day after school, it was ever present. So I remember from an early age getting super into the Simpsons, and we got season two to 12 on DVD. That, for me, was a huge influence. 

I was watching it because it was a cartoon and I liked these funny yellow characters, but really I was actually watching seminal comedy work, especially in that era. Those seasons 2 to 12, and sort of 3 to 6 especially, you’re watching some of the best sitcom writing ever. 

I remember watching a lot of panel shows with my dad, Simon Amstel on Never Mind the Buzzcocks ripping into people and having a laugh. Eight Out of Ten Cats. Sean Lock in Eight Out of Ten Cats was my favourite comedian on TV. That was so funny and weird. 

And then obviously Live at the Apollo and Have I Got News for You. Then I got to a point where I was just watching every sitcom, and I got also influenced by the big American sitcoms. I used to watch Friends relentlessly, Scrubs because it’s always on, and then Big Bang Theory. 

I remember watching Live at the Apollo and thinking man, imagine doing that, imagine that being your life and your career.At that time, I didn’t know that they weren’t just saying what was at the top of their head. I thought that’s what was happening, I thought Dara O’Briain was just walking out and riffing. 

It was amazing but I remember thinking it was an impossible dream. I felt like those people were just divinely funny. They were chosen. I don’t know who by, maybe the government.

What were your first steps in comedy? 

I did improv comedy at uni at York. When I went to uni there were really good societies, and one of them was a comedy society. And I thought, I’m definitely joining football and definitely joining comedy society. 

Then I broke my leg in the first month so I couldn’t play football anymore. But I was doing comedy society, and they had this troupe called the Shambles. And I thought, oh wow, imagine being in the Shambles. They had these black T shirts that had an S on them and I remember thinking whoa, these guys are rock and roll. Even though it’s an improv troupe, so it was an absolute bunch of nerds.

I didn’t get into Shambles on my first audition, but I kept going to comedy society and all the things they put on. Then I got into the sketch show they were doing at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2013 when I was 19, then after that I did get into Shambles. 

At the Fringe we used to get about five people every day and we thought we were rock stars. 

And then eventually at uni I was just a bit dismayed and down. The first two years I had a great time, great group of friends, just enjoying myself. Then as uni went on, I realised that I didn’t have any plan for what I’m going to do afterwards. So thought, right, I’m gonna make a list of stuff I want to do in my life. And one of them was to do stand up.

It was only when I came back to London, and again, it was at a point where I was just a bit upset with my life that I was working a shitty job, I was back living with my parents, and again I just thought about what I could do with myself that I would enjoy.

So I started going to open mics, dipping my toe in, doing one or two a week. But then eventually it got to the end of 2016 and I got given this personality test at work, the whole company had to do it. 

In my results it said I would prefer to live in the fantasy of what could happen, rather than try to achieve that and fail. I realised that was exactly what was happening with my standup. I’m not really committing. So in 2017 I committed to doing four gigs a week, every week. And then I never looked back and just kept going.

How did you transition from open mics to more serious gigs?

I honestly just think it’s doing a lot of gigs. It’s tough in London, as you know, like there’s so many terrible open mics, but you’ve just got to write and you’ve got to gig as much as possible. 

The more you gig, the more likely you are to be seen by someone. I don’t mean anyone big but just another comedian who runs a gig, or can tell about other gigs. I was quite good at asking people about other gigs they’re doing and which ones are good. 

Then eventually you get recommended to places. And what you’re hoping is that by the time you’re getting recommended, you’ve actually built up quite a lot of material so you’ve got a strong five or ten so you can swing onto that next bar of the monkey ladder.

You don’t even need to smash it every time, but if you’re good enough, then you can hold on to the next bar. Then you know you can do those sort of gigs where you’ll be asked back, and then slowly, you see your diary go from terrible open mic, terrible open mic, ok open mic, decent night, terrible open mic, decent night –  then it’s decent night, decent night, decent night. And over the years starts transitioning towards more better gigs. 

Your act seems to be what I’d call straight-forward old school standup jokes, stories, and observations. Is that how you see yourself?

When I started doing any sort of comedy at uni, I had that student-y take on comedy, where if it doesn’t make the plebs laugh, then I’m gonna laugh because I’m smart. It’s comedy about comedy. I thought I’ll be one of those cool dudes like Stuart Lee, who does really introspective philosophical comedy. 

It’s just not my vibe. What I’m strong at, and what I generally find funny, is material with loads of gags, I love having loads of punch lines. That’s a nice comment that I sometimes get from comedians that I gig with who I would look up to, they say “Loads of punchlines!” And I’m like, yeah, fucking right there are. 

So that’s what I like quantity over quality, I say. That’s the way my brain works, it’s just more observational stuff.

Are you a disciplined writer? 

I have to force myself to do it, I forced myself to write every day. I tell myself I’ve just got to do at least 10 minutes, because you can’t say no to that –  you just got to do at least 10 minutes. 

When I’ve got more time I try to write it out further. But I have to force myself because my more natural thing is to just riff on stage. I’ll come up with a premise, write down the notes on that and I just go on with that. Sometimes that does work. 

I am fortunate that I’m more of a performer than a writer, so I can sometimes get away with that. Sometimes really good stuff comes in the moment, compared to when I’m sitting there staring at a laptop, but I think you just got to do as much as you can on each angle. 

You recently self-funded and recorded a special, how did that go?

It was great!. 

I did my first debut stand upstnadup show at Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2022. I’d worked for years on it, I was supposed to do it in 2020. and then it went on 2022 because the pandemic, it actually ended up becoming a different show, because a lot of stuff in the show is about those two years. 

I did it in Edinburgh, it went really well, sold it out it, got some lovely reviews, then went back to London and didn’t have anything planned. At that point I was able to quit my day job and I thought, right, I want to make this special happen, I want to record it. 

At first I was thinking of a 200/300 seat theatre, but then I thought of Leicester Square Theatre, that’s 400 seats I’ll try and sell that out. It’s also where I came runner up in new comedian of the year back in 2017 as a nice spiritual journey to go back to that place for the actual show. 

I worked on it with my producer Amy, and she was great. So we booked out Leicester Square Theatre, filmed it, and chucked it up on YouTube. It was a daunting experience but the response was so so good, it’s been incredible. I would recommend that to anyone – don’t be put off or be scared of doing your first special, it just makes me want to do more. So if you want to check it out, it’s Ali Woods: Best Friend Ever.