1,500 Kids, 10 Shows, and Why This Matters

Well, it’s Friday, and what a week it’s been.

I’ve just finished performing Blue Badge Bunch in Hull at eight schools, and we’ve performed in front of 1,500 children over four days. The feedback has been amazing. Weeks like this remind me exactly why I do what I do.

I keep saying to other comedians and artists — there isn’t just the late-night adult scene. You can create an hour show that brings in proper income because people want to hear what you’ve got to say. Or you can create a children’s show.

Now my children’s show is a bit different. It’s about disability awareness. We’ve tried it in theatres up and down the country, and it worked — but we weren’t getting bums on seats. Maybe that was ticket prices. Maybe it was marketing. Maybe it was timing.

But I’ve always said to Susanna, I want to be in a position where we can do this as cheaply as possible so families who can’t afford big theatre prices can still come.

I was a kid once. I remember my mum and dad trying to entertain four kids on a budget. The only shows we really saw were at libraries or in schools. So the fact that we’re now working with Nottingham Library, Rotherham Library and Holwood Library to bring shows directly into schools and community spaces — that means something.

This is what it’s about. Helping children thrive. Helping them see that performance and creativity belong to them too.

My show teaches them that just because you’ve got a disability doesn’t mean you can’t do things — you just might have to approach the world differently. And yes, I believe the world should adapt around us. But we’ve all got to start somewhere.

I couldn’t do this without my business partner, Susanna Clarke from Ingenious Fools, and Joe Dickinson, who helps sharpen up the show with slides, gadgets and all the behind-the-scenes bits that make it slick.

And lately, I’ve finally found a support worker who goes the extra mile to make sure I’m 100% on my game. That’s a key lesson in being disabled — finding people around you who see the same vision.

This is the first week in years I’ve had three proper meals a day. Yes, I’ve put on a bit of weight — but it meant I could perform eight school shows and still do a new material night and a pro gig.

That’s 10 shows in four days.

People think you only do that in Edinburgh. You don’t. You can do more — but you need the right team around you. And whether you’re disabled or not, nobody does ten shows in four days without support. Emotional support. Practical support. Someone making sure you’ve eaten. Someone checking you’re alright.

Don’t be ashamed to reach out.

One thing I’ve learned recently is to stop struggling when I don’t need to. Use adaptations. Use straws. Buy cups with built-in straws. Stop making life harder just to prove something. Work smarter, not harder.

I’m off now for a couple of days’ rest. Then I’ll be back in the shed creating more artwork. I haven’t sold anything this week — but I’ve performed in front of 1,500 children.

And that matters.

The Vision Still Stands

Lately, I’ve noticed more disabled comedians coming through the ranks. And that’s brilliant. We need more diverse voices on the circuit.

But my vision still stands.

I will give everyone a chance at performing at Disabled Cants. However, like every promoter, I listen. I listen to my audience. I listen to the comedians.

And what I’ve noticed is that most disabled comedians can now access a lot of new material nights. That’s progress, and I’m proud to see it.

But there are still a small number of us with physical disabilities who genuinely struggle because venues aren’t accessible. And they’re the ones I really want to help push this year.

That doesn’t mean I won’t help others — I will. But it’s worth asking yourself:

Can I get on other nights before Disabled Cants?
Am I taking a spot from someone who has fewer options?

I also know some neurodiverse comedians who struggle in certain rooms and formats — and I see you too. I know who you are, and I will get you on when I can.

For example, this Thursday in Leicester, the Disabled Cants lineup is mainly physical disabilities. That’s intentional. Because those performers often struggle the most to get consistent stage time — and they deserve longer sets so they can develop properly and progress into bigger clubs.

That’s what this is about.

Not ego.
Not favouritism.
But fairness, access and progression.