Deal Makers Funny Business

I love comedy, I love to laugh,

I laugh my whole life through.

CHUCKLING

It's autumn and, across Britain,

stand-up comedians are on their pre-Christmas tour.

I just think it's good to have a laugh.

For hard-working comics, especially those at the top,

it can be a lucrative business.

Michael McIntyre has just played 71 shows,

ten of them here, at London's 02 Arena.

You put on Michael McIntyre at the 02.

It's a bloke with a microphone

and 12,000 people are paying 30, 40 quid a ticket.

Peter Kay's last show sold 1.3 million tickets.

It was the biggest comedy tour in the history of the planet.

The money is in live.

No doubt about it.

This place!

Look at the bloody size of it!

For Kay and others like him,

these 15,000-seater stadiums are now the venues of choice.

The only thing you could compare Peter's sales to

were acts like Take That,

where they've come in and just added show, after show, after show.

We never thought we'd see that for comedy.

We've got kind of comedians that are more like rock stars.

I mean, they look like rock stars.

I'm a creativist, I like making things

and I will make as much money as I can to do that.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Big shows also generate money from DVD sales.

That's if you're not already sick seeing these stand-ups on TV.

When you stick your hand up and shout, "I'm a comedian!"

Within five minutes, you've got a gig on TV.

There's too many comics on telly.

They'd... I think we need to have a cull, to be honest.

But funny men didn't always do so well.

I think for a whole series of Python,

which was about seven and a half months,

I think I used to get about £4,000 for everything.

Frankie Howerd was on a measly 80 guineas for a TV series.

That's ridiculous.

Howerd was already a really big star.

Ooh, missus!

This is the story of how streetwise managers and agents

discovered comics working for loose change...

Can you hear me?

..and gave them professional careers with an income to match.

Well, the moment I had an agent,

my fee...almost doubled.

Comedy is now a career.

And it's the agents who make all the moves.

If you call 20 producers and tell them somebody's good,

they'll take no notice.

If they read it in The Guardian that they might be good,

then, someone might call you.

Good agents are passionate about their clients,

they're passionate about the business they work in.

I do know what people are worth in the marketplace

and I try and get more than that.

For comics who make it big,

there'll always be an agent who can make them bigger.

This programme contains some strong language.

You're watching, probably, the world's greatest ever comedian.

I know, I know.

It's a sweeping statement.

AUDIENCE BOOS

Thank you!

Are these amateur comedians tomorrow's stars?

Jo Brand, let's hear it!

If they are, they'll need to tickle the funny bone

of a very special someone -

an agent or manager.

But what's the difference?

'Managers are different to agents,'

but it gets confusing,

because some agents are managers as well.

I can tell you are quite excited

cos I'm a lot thinner and prettier in real life, aren't I?

LAUGHTER

Don't panic down there, I'm not going to fall off.

LAUGHTER

The difference, to me, seems to be

that agents are people who sort of protect you legally,

in the sense that they'll look at your contracts

and they'll make sure that you're getting A, B and C,

'whereas, managers will sort of manage your life and your career'

and that again is dependent on how much you want them to manage you.

The best piece of advice

that I had about agenting

was from the flamboyant figure

that is Michael Grade.

He said...he said, "Identify the talent,

"get hold of the talent, grab their coat-tails and never let go."

For me the agent,

the relationship with my agent is massively important.

I always wanted to join the Navy when I was growing up in Wales.

I just wanted to go somewhere drier, to be honest!

LAUGHTER

'It's an intimate, intimate relationship.'

It's totally like family.

A good agent typically gets between ten and 20%

for negotiating a contract.

But to get rich in theatres and arenas, they'll need someone else.

A promoter.

OK, Nick, so where are we with Mr Eddie Izzard?

Well, we had a few issues with one of their South African...

Mick Perrin has promoted stars like Eddie Izzard,

Lee Evans, Paul Merton and Dylan Moran.

What's your estimate of the size of crew and number of trucks at this stage or is it too early?

I can't imagine that it'll be much more smaller than last time round,

although we do need to be quite careful.

From intimate clubs to giant arenas,

Mick can tailor a tour to whatever the artist wants,

in exchange for a share of the profit,

and he'll pay for it all upfront.

It's a very fine dividing line

between making a profit and not.

If I start a tour now for next October,

that means, for the next year, I'm paying out, you know,

sometimes hundreds of thousands of pounds on something which hasn't happened yet.

So, essentially, we take the risk and it's tough.

Ten years ago, Mick Perrin took Eddie Izzard on a world tour.

In America, tickets worth 35

were changing hands online for more than 700.

I mean, I don't think of how much someone's going to make me

and I know that Eddie kind of feels the same way.

-It's never money first, we never consider that before we...

-But...

If you see some of the things we've done in the past, you'd understand why that's true.

But I'd argue you should put money in a close second behind it,

but your first thing is the project.

I, I think money is important, you've got to make things pay.

I am happy to have tried to create my career

and, obviously, Mick...does...his career as a promoter

in a way that you do make a profit.

Making a profit is an essence of life.

We are here for you, performing at the Edinburgh Fringe 2012.

Promoters don't always make a profit.

If an act flops on tour, it's Mick who'll take the hit.

Undaunted, today, at the Edinburgh Festival,

Eddie's decided to stick his neck out

and go into the promoter business himself.

Their first act is a German stand-up comedian - Michael Mittermeier.

It is a quiet minefield.

British is supposed to include Scottish, but some Scottish people don't feel they're British.

But when I say Britain, is it also Scotland or not?

Britain is supposed to include Scotland.

OK.

Michael Mittermeier!

Back home in Germany, Michael is bigger than bratwurst.

But knowing the potential rewards by going global,

he's testing the market in the UK.

Guten Abend!

Please welcome your comedian for tonight, Michael Mittermeier!

Here in Edinburgh, he is taking it gently,

playing a series of intimate gigs.

How can they make it cosy for the German guy?

How can they make it like I feel like at home?

So they came up with the idea to build up this bunker.

LAUGHTER

Trevor, join us!

Also in town this month, South African comedian Trevor Noah.

How are you?

My mother is a black woman, South African.

And my father is Swiss, from Switzerland.

Well, you know how the Swiss love chocolate, you know.

LAUGHTER

Trevor's also downsized his usual act for Edinburgh.

Guided again by Mick and Eddie.

I laugh a lot about his routines, I love his humour,

so he's a guy I really appreciate when he laughs about my jokes.

For me, it's amazing to have somebody

who has gone all over the world

saying to you, "This is what I found.

"Please go and watch these guys."

Can I ask you why you're so excited about these two comics?

HE LAUGHS

The word excited is terribly overused.

Uh... They... They're standing here while I'm saying this.

Well, I'm very excited about...uh... Tell me your name, quick, quick.

Which one, the funny one or...?

And the guy that... The guy from... It's a guy from Belgium

and a guy from Kenya that have come over here.

No, well, I don't really want to single out even these two guys,

cos they will take care of their careers,

they don't actually need me in this thing.

Michael, he's wanted to come over and do it in English,

so I said, "Well, you know, I'll back you, I'll encourage that."

And Trevor, he's one of the few comics in South Africa

with a mixed black and white audience,

so I like mixing this thing up,

cos the melting pot is the only way for the whole world,

to save the whole world

and this is me just putting my money where my mouth is.

-Thanks very much.

-Cheers.

I think there's a quality control there, really.

And having Eddie's name maybe alongside mine too, to some extent,

says that there's a certain quality here, so come along and see it.

Because, otherwise, you're starting cold,

nobody knows who you are, it'll take a long time.

We think they're great.

With Eddie's name on the poster,

Michael and Trevor

have two quality backers.

But to guarantee success here in the UK,

they might also want to secure a fancy London theatrical agent.

So who might that be?

This man was recently voted

the most influential figure in British comedy.

You might not recognise the agent Addison Cresswell.

Addison Cresswell? He is fantastic.

I have a soft spot for Addison.

But you will know some of the acts he represents.

Lee Evans, Jack Dee,

Michael McIntyre and Alan Carr,

to name just a few.

He's a kingmaker and he's good at it.

Addison's your man.

Uh... You know... What can I say?

Addison Cresswell is colourful.

He's a lovely chap.

Oh, I love Addison, I'm incredibly fond of him.

He's incredibly astute.

-He's good.

-His track record speaks for itself.

-Yeah.

At this London theatre, his production company

regularly puts on one of his biggest successes to date, a TV show.

For years, stand-up on TV had been either ignored

or put out in midweek graveyard slots.

I've been at these meetings

of the BBC saying that stand-up comedy doesn't work on television.

Stand-up comedy doesn't work on television,

doesn't work on television.

Please welcome your host for tonight,

Mr Jack Dee!

In 2004, Live At The Apollo

started to bring laughter into our front rooms.

It was less dingy comedy club,

more shinny floor, Royal Variety Performance.

Thank you so much! Oh, it's a lovely welcome, thank you very much.

WOLF WHISTLE

Ooh, thank you, yeah.

LAUGHTER

I remember Addison ringing me and saying,

"I've just got this commission from the BBC.

"It's just going to be straight stand-up, exactly what we love,

"give people a proper platform."

They kind of ramped up the showbiz element of it,

'they had bright lights,

'they had a huge stage, and they had a kind of roaring crowd.'

They had celebrities kind of down the front who, you know,

the comics took the piss out of

and it just moved it up a different level.

I was told to wear glittery clothes, right,

cos this is a bit of a showbiz occasion,

and I just caught sight of myself in the mirror

and I realised I look like a fairground ride, so...

LAUGHTER

Shows like Live At The Apollo

were really helpful in kind of

bringing comedy to a generation

that didn't really realise it was available.

You know, my personal trainer said if I walk around a bit,

I'll use up a few calories.

LAUGHTER

That proved that there was an appetite from the public for it,

and I think it was because they'd been starved of it

for years and years.

Take care, good night!

Live At The Apollo was cheap to make and instantly successful.

The sort of combo that makes TV executives want a spin-off,

which they got in June 2009.

'Ladies and gentlemen,

'please give a big welcome

'to Michael McIntyre!'

CHEERING

The show was named after its star, Michael McIntyre,

one of the hottest properties in British stand-up today.

Good evening!

Michael McIntyre has been writing a joke a day,

every day since he was a small boy.

Michael grew up around comedy

and with comedy,

it has been his life.

McIntyre has written of how he struggled in the early days

to get noticed.

He's the only person who ever used to say to me,

"How did you get that, Rhod? How did you get that gig?"

And at that point, he was simply doing the 20-minute gigs,

circuit gigs around the country.

It was very soon after that that he switched, went with Addison and...

as close as you'll come to overnight success.

Michael McIntyre!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Not long after changing his agent,

McIntyre secured his first major TV spot -

the 2006 Royal Variety Performance.

Who in their right mind gets stuck in traffic and just goes,

"Quick! Given me the phone, I must warn the others!"

LAUGHTER

"Hello, is that the radio? It's Barry.

"It's too late for me."

LAUGHTER

"Save as many as you can."

LAUGHTER

I think there's something forgotten about Michael all the time,

which is, you know, he gets lots of stick from critics,

he gets lots of stick from, you know, other comics.

He is a really hilarious observational comedian.

He's up there with Jerry Seinfeld

in terms of his ability to absolutely pinpoint, in a microscopic way,

generic stuff about ordinary life that you haven't noticed.

Are you ready for my next guest?

TV played a big part in Michael McIntyre's rise to stardom.

And, as agents will tell you,

it can be a shot in the arm for just about any comic.

Mr Imran Yusuf!

'I never thought I'd get on the show, never thought they'd put ME.

'You know, they'll never put Imran Yusuf'

on BBC1, on Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow.

I used to wake up every morning and going,

"Don't get too excited, it's not happening."

Hello, guys! My name is Imran Yusuf.

I've just come back from doing some gigs in America.

CHEERING

Fantastic country, loads of fun to travel to,

especially when you look like me.

LAUGHTER

'Being on Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow changed everything for me,

'practically overnight.'

I actually went to school in America.

Completely illegally, but I did go.

LAUGHTER

As a comedian, your market value changes after you get a nomination,

after you've been on Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow.

It's nice to know that.

Market value is important to Imran.

That's because he is aiming high.

'I want to be bigger than Chris Rock, that's my dream.

'He's a statement comic, he has something to say.'

He's more than just a comedian,

he's like the Malcolm X of stand-up comedy. To me, at least.

I really love his work.

Being the next Chris Rock though means working hard.

Tonight, I'm tripling up, which means I'm doing three gigs in one evening.

However, right now, we're in a bit of traffic.

Imran's TV calling card means tonight

his agent's been able to open three doors for his client.

'I think a relationship with the agent is very important,

'because they're handling your business.

'You've got to build your career with somebody you trust.'

We've got a plan, we have a business plan.

And that's what I want to continue working with and take it forward.

First up, North London,

where Imran's due to open at The 99 Club, in Islington.

LAUGHTER

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Welcome, welcome. Thank you!

Well, look at this gorgeous girl band in the front row. Hello!

LAUGHTER

'Last year, I think I did 320 gigs.'

The year before that, 2010, I did 322 gigs

and the year before that, I did 250 gigs

and the year before that, I think it was 274 gigs.

Cos I just put the effort in, I just went out there and gigged as much as I could.

And that helped me, one, get out there,

but also develop my craft very, very quickly.

We saw Jungle Book, you're most definitely in that book, yeah.

LAUGHTER

Guys, my name is Imran Yusuf. Peace out, God bless.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

After a ten-minute routine,

the next bit of the business plan.

Right, done here and to the next one.

Imran's off to gig number two, at a club in the West End.

Um... It looks like I'm actually kind of late for my second gig.

According to these times, I should be at my third gig by now.

I'm actually closer to the third gig than I am to the second gig.

Late for this gig, I've got to run.

Downstairs, at the Big Night Out, they're waiting.

Please, ladies and gentlemen,

put your hands together and go crazy for the wonderful Imran Yusuf!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

'I've always got to give the audience more than what they've paid for,'

I've got to give it my best. I have to do that.

Otherwise, you're ripping people off

and you're not giving the art form, the craft, any form of respect.

Guys, my name is Imran Yusuf. Peace out, God bless.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

It's now 11pm and the race is on to the final gig,

at the Comedy Pub, off Leicester Square.

Imran Yusuf! Here he is!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

I want to have kids with really cool, multicultural, double-barrelled names.

My little son here.

Mohammed-Dave.

LAUGHTER

'You never turn down the opportunity to make money.'

That's just being lazy.

My name is Imran Yusuf. Please out, God bless!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Today, the comedy club circuit does big business

for both comedians and promoters.

But it wasn't always like that.

When I think back to '79,

when there was absolutely nothing in the UK

that you could say was a comedy club

and now, 33 years later, there must be at least 500 venues.

I'm quite pleased and proud of that.

In 1979, Don Ward was running a strip club in London's West End.

Then he decided to dabble into comedy.

We originally started The Comedy Store on £1,000.

The idea was we'd try it for six weeks.

If it didn't work, I'd lost £1,000.

We auditioned on a Saturday morning

and the first person I auditioned was Alexei Sayle.

-I'll do you, sunshine.

-Any time.

And I thought, "Thank you, comedy god,

"this is the first person I've auditioned and this is it."

They come and put wires in your head, but I don't mind anyway.

What, me, paranoid?!

I kicked off my first show and we didn't look back.

The place was packed.

LAUGHTER

I don't like too much applause.

That's how fascism started.

Since those early days, Don's moved premises, twice,

each time to a bigger venue.

I do have a particular favourite and it's this one,

which is taken from the door looking out,

and the queue looks like it goes on for ever into infinity.

All eager to get in.

In those days, we held 215 in the Leicester Square Store

and people would queue up for about three hours

to be part of that 215.

Magical days. Great days, great days.

The great, classic comedians of history.

You know, people often say to me,

"Alexei, what is alternative new wave Marxist comedy?"

And I say, "Sod off, you nosy bastard!"

In clubs, agents noticed their act

could only insult an audience 215 at time.

But there was a place

where they could insult millions of people all at once - television.

The comedy club scene was spewing out these new comedians.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, we are the Dangerous Brothers.

Ha-ha, Dangerous Brothers!

My name is Richard Dangerous and this is Sir Adrian Dangerous.

And they put this show on called Friday Night Live,

which felt very much like a club, but you had turns.

Good evening.

These characters became, you know,

huge figures in the public consciousness.

Oh, yeah, having a go at myself.

That shows how socialist I am, all right!

But television wasn't all good. For the comics and their agents,

this was a medium that had to be treated with respect.

The critical caveat you've got to have with television and young talent

is just to...to take it gently.

It can burn up people and material very quickly, television.

Hello, lady, gent, everything.

A bit like with Saturday Live,

it allowed people like Harry Enfield to do five minutes of a character

and make an impression.

What you don't want

is suddenly you've got to create six hours of material

that's going to have to be created in a hurry,

probably on a budget that is not quite big enough, and then put out there,

because if it doesn't work, you can crash and burn quite quickly.

Stand-up on TV also fed back to the club circuit,

where all kinds of comedians found it easier to get work.

If you were doing The Comedy Store at the weekend,

you'd get five gigs.

So you had one on Thursday, two on Friday, two on Saturday.

You were getting 200 quid a gig, so that's a grand.

Then you've got gigs you can slip in in-between,

so you can get another maybe 100, maybe 150,

if you've got four gigs in a night.

So people can make a really good living out of doing that circuit.

Two up-and-coming comedians making a good living

were Rob Newman and David Baddiel.

What was different about us was that we weren't overtly political.

We were the first generation of "alternative comedians"

whose interest and attack and voice was not overtly political

and I think that is probably key to why it grew exponentially

and commercially at that point.

Ooo-wee, you bugger.

On TV, stand-up was now being sold to a hungrier audience.

In 1990, David Baddiel and Rob Newman,

together with Steve Punt and Hugh Dennis, got their own series.

The Mary Whitehouse Experience!

-FRENCH ACCENT:

-Hello, everybody, and welcome, of course, to The Mary Whitehouse Experience.

Actually, I come from Newcastle-upon-Tyne,

but one day I took too much amphetamine, et voila, I talk like this.

And what is more, my arms fell off.

It was massively important. I think we'd done one series

and we hadn't even got into the end of that series,

and me and Rob were booked to do a venue in South London

and I think it was 900 people. I remember at the time thinking,

"How are we going to fill a venue with 900 people?"

And people were queueing round the block for it.

And that was the first time that I thought, "Oh, it's been a hit,

"and this is what happens if you have a hit on TV.

"Blimey. It's brilliant."

Newman and Baddiel's success was no accident of fate.

The boys' wider popularity had, to a large degree,

been orchestrated by their agent.

I got into managing talent, because

previous to that I produced plays,

and the traditional theatre agents would never return phone calls

to somebody they didn't know. I took a view that basically

the old school agents really weren't much good,

there was obviously a gap in the market. I thought you could

manage comedians like bands and, in fact, in the early '90s,

the interest from the media was far, far greater than it is now.

Hoping to exploit this new interest,

the sharp-suited young Thoday, together with Richard Allen-Turner,

started managing comedians in the late '80s.

By 1993, Newman and Baddiel were their biggest act,

a hit not just on TV but also on the road.

They became overnight kind of rock stars,

with teenage girls screaming outside their dressing rooms

and going to all the gigs

and screaming and hitchhiking to gigs.

There was a rather mean story that went around

that the venues were really pissed off with the bar takings

because everyone was under 16.

But the ice cream franchises were always delighted

because their profits had gone through the roof.

That was a really popular story on the circuit.

We blazed a trail, I guess, to some extent,

financially, because we were touring and filling up big venues

and selling, initially, videos and then DVDs kind of by the truckload.

KLAXON

CHEERING

I think I've been sold slightly weaker stuff than usual.

They did five nights at the Apollo and I thought,

"Hang on a second, you could play Wembley."

Wembley Arena was built in another era,

as a swimming pool for the 1934 Empire Games.

In the '60s and '70s, its 12,500 capacity

made it the perfect choice for huge rock acts.

# I'm standing in the rain

# Can't seem to get along... #

Now, audaciously, Jon Thoday wanted Newman and Baddiel to fill it.

I remember Jon Thoday telling me at the time

that he was going to do this, and we all went, "What?!

"Baddiel and Newman, Wembley? Are you insane?

"Wembley? Can you sell it? It won't work. It won't work."

This is Wembley Arena where tonight

myself and Robert will perform Britain's largest ever comedy gig.

It's the culmination of six years of working together,

from when we were writers on the radio to The Mary Whitehouse Experience

to the tour we've just done and the TV series,

and really, I have to say, the whole thing has been a great thing.

It's been a lot of fun and I've really, really enjoyed it.

There you go, that wasn't so bad, was it?

Not too difficult saying all that.

We were scared that people wouldn't be able to hear

so we went through a huge amount of rigmarole

to try and make sure the sound system was OK,

cos we didn't know whether it was going to work or not.

And it was very, very terrifying and very exciting.

CHEERING FROM AUDIENCE

Seven, six, five, four,

three, two, one...

CHEERING

When they knew, when the audience saw what was about to happen,

the atmosphere in the room was absolutely electric.

They were big, big pop stars.

I went with Sam Mendes. We both went, pretended we were 15-year-olds.

And it was extraordinary

because the idea that two young comedians could play Wembley

just seemed so ludicrous.

There are too many words for walking.

Like, sauntering. What's that?

Is this it?

Surprising everyone,

Newman and Baddiel split soon after the Wembley gig.

But that wasn't the final whistle for Baddiel.

Abandoning the teenybop market,

he got interested in the potbellied football market.

And so did his new partner, Frank Skinner.

The thing is, I'm not actually that fond of Polish sausage.

No, but someone will want it.

Fantasy Football League, the show they made together,

would be one of the biggest hits of the '90s.

-Thank you so much for inviting me into your home.

-That's all right.

Good night, everyone.

'It was in the ether, the whole fanzine thing,'

and it was the beginning of the rise of the Premier League

and Sky getting behind football.

There was a real kind of excitement about football sort of coming back.

For Perrier Award winner Skinner, things were sparkling.

The BBC gave him his own chat show.

Thank you very much indeed for that lovely welcome.

And then there was this.

# Three lions on the shirt

# Jewels remain still gleaming... #

Together with Baddiel,

he became Euro '96 cheerleader to the England football team.

So when it came time to negotiate a new contract,

it seemed as if Frank, unlike England, couldn't lose.

On television, if someone can host a show

and attract audiences to switch on,

if you're not the BBC, advertisers want to be around your programme,

it brings money into the channel.

On the BBC, it's about the sheer volume of people that want to watch the show.

And competition - it's a free market - there's competition everywhere.

And I think the agents and the managers said,

"Well, we don't think our artists are getting paid enough.

"You're expecting them to host a programme, you're expecting them to write,

"you're hanging it all on them and we want more money."

In 1999, it was reported that Skinner's management team

were discussing a deal worth £20 million.

I think stars' pay is very kind of emotive to the public.

In the end, what you have to think about with the star

is that they are only generally stars for a short period of time,

and I think that stars are stars for a reason.

They're very, very special and they can deliver.

At the BBC, entertainment bosses got wind of the 20 million figure

and abruptly ended negotiations.

In this particular case, Jon Thoday was...

I was not party to the deal, by the way,

but I presume Jon was asking the BBC to match an offer from ITV

to make a number of series of Frank Skinner's shows,

including, I think, a series of Fantasy Football

and Baddiel and Skinner Unplanned and Frank Skinner's chat show.

So there was a whole bundle of programmes that he was going to make

and they were going to cost whatever they were going to cost,

probably not 20 million. That would have been an exaggeration as well.

So that's not money going into Frank Skinner's pocket,

that is programme maker's money.

And he would been paid well, but certainly nothing like that, for it.

It seemed, though, that the press had already made their mind up.

One newspaper voted Skinner the world's greediest man.

Frank was very, very unfairly dealt with there by the press

because, in absolute honesty, I don't think I can think of anyone I know

in the business who is less bothered about money than Frank Skinner.

Absolutely not bothered about money.

Jon would have been bothered to get him a good deal

and Frank would have been interested in making the programmes he wanted to

make the way he wanted to make them. That quite often involves money.

The more they invest, the more you think, "They're serious about making the show I want."

But he would not have been interested in just having loads of money.

In the end, Skinner walked into the welcoming arms of ITV.

But the incident caused a lot of soul-searching about the pay of top comedians.

In a way, I don't think it's the fault of the managers and agents.

If they ask for it and people are prepared to pay it...

you know, the end, in a lot of ways.

I think what you've got to do is you've got to put into perspective

that when you first start doing stand-up, you work for free.

Like, nobody gets paid straightaway,

and if you're very lucky, you'll do your five-minute spot,

you'll do your ten-minute spot, and you might get paid a couple of quid.

'And then, what happens is, as soon as you become successful,

'and people are willing to pay you big money,

'it's just market forces at work, you know.'

Good evening, St Albans!

If people want you, then they'll pay the money,

and if they don't, they won't.

The controversy about Frank Skinner's pay blew up in 1999,

the same year that comedian Ernie Wise died.

After a lifetime in comedy,

his will left an estate of just over half a million pounds.

Compare that to the money today's comics earn

just from touring and DVD sales.

In 2011, Peter Kay's estimated take was over 20 million...

..Lee Evans picked up almost 13 million,

Alan Carr just under six million.

And even the then relative newcomer Sarah Millican

got almost £1.5 million.

These are certainly big figures and they raise an interesting question.

Today, comedy historian Oliver Double is hoping to answer it.

We know that comedians earn an awful lot of money today.

We know they can earn millions, literally millions of pounds a year.

But the question is, how does that compare with what people

used to earn in the past in comedy?

So what I'm really looking forward to is seeing the actual figures

and crunching some of those numbers.

Oliver's hoping to get some of the answers here,

at the BBC's Written Archives Centre in Berkshire.

Yes, this is actually it, the BBC's Written Archives Centre.

Think of it as a TARDIS for historians.

The archives go back to the very birth of the BBC in 1922.

Correspondence.

Contracts.

Complaints.

There are plenty of those.

-This is the box we need.

-OK.

First stop for Oliver, M for Miller.

Max Miller.

-That's the file.

-Look at that.

# I'm known as the Cheeky Chappie

# The things I say are snappy

# That's why the pretty girls all fall for me... #

In the 1940s, Max Miller -

here he is pulling up in his Roller -

was one of Britain's most popular comedians.

Miller was said to be hugely wealthy,

even if he did like to do his own building work.

Miller was coy about opening his wallet in the pub,

so Oliver's keen to know just how much was in it.

There's a really interesting one here.

What we've got is a telegram dated January 3rd, 1941.

This is from his agent, Julius Darewski,

who is in negotiation with the BBC

for a programme called People's Palace, a radio show,

and what he's saying is, "In order to do this show,

"we're going to have to cancel four weeks' work in the theatre."

His normal salary for appearing in the theatre would be £400 a week,

which in today's money would be something like £17,000 a week.

It's quite a lot of money.

And then just a few days later, on the 8th of January, 1941,

you find this BBC memo,

where they talk about how they've negotiated the fee

and they've got him to negotiate it down to £100 for each engagement,

which is about £4,400 in today's money.

They go on to say, "I am assured by his agent

"that he gets £400 a week on a percentage basis."

They say, "This figure may be exaggerated

"but there is no doubt that he earns big money."

Max Miller did plenty of radio for the BBC,

but he never really embraced television.

There were others, though,

coming out of the music halls of the 1950s,

who did see that they had a future on TV.

When did you first discover that you worked well together,

that there was a kind of chemistry between you?

When we got married.

-We realised then.

-Yes.

Er... No, you don't realise you've got a chemistry, it's just...

You just want suddenly to do this act,

do this double act, and develop it.

We lean on each other a lot, you know, that's the thing.

He's asking some funny questions, isn't he?

-We're not giving any funny answers, that's the problem.

-It's very difficult to answer!

For their first TV series in 1954,

Morecambe and Wise were offered 100 guineas per programme -

in today's money, around £1,200 each.

Eric and Ernie's agent had demanded 125 guineas.

But Oliver's found an internal memo

which shows the BBC just weren't having it.

They're really not happy with the idea of paying Morecambe and Wise 125 guineas.

They've justified this

by looking at what the other acts were getting paid.

So here we see Jewel and Warriss,

who were the biggest double act of the day,

and they were earning 200 guineas for their show,

which was something like £4,800 in today's money.

Terry Thomas was on 140 guineas.

And Frankie Howerd on 80 guineas. That's ridiculous.

I mean, Howerd was already a really big star.

It's not a huge amount of money to do a TV series.

In the end, Morecambe and Wise settled for the 100 guineas

but the show bombed and for years after,

the BBC didn't want to know them.

"Dear Morecambe and Wise,

"thank you for letting me see the enclosed synopsis.

"Unfortunately, we just do not have a space available at this moment

"for this idea, but if an opportunity should arise

"we will get in touch with you."

With the future looking bleak, Ernie had an idea.

What if they changed their agent?

What they needed was somebody who understood television

and that man was Billy Marsh.

He was a very important agent,

he had a great record in spotting new talent.

He also worked with Michael Grade,

who was sort of his apprentice in his early days in show business.

And within a few months of being with Billy Marsh,

Morecambe and Wise were all over the TV schedules.

That included 12 appearances on Sunday Night at the London Palladium

which was the big show of the time. If you could get onto that, you knew you were getting somewhere.

Billy Marsh's reinvention of Morecambe and Wise

was orchestrated to perfection.

The BBC were now putty in his hands,

falling over themselves to finally offer the boys a series.

But it was too late. Marsh was not returning their calls.

"Dear Billy, I have tried to contact you several times on the telephone without success.

"Can you please give me an immediate answer as to whether Morecambe and Wise

"are available to BBC Television to perform in a series of scripts?

"The matter is now urgent."

Now, suddenly, they're hot property.

And that's the power of an agent.

Billy Marsh made them hot and made the BBC want them.

Marsh eventually replied a few days later,

claiming he had no idea the BBC were interested "in these artistes".

The BBC had blown it and Billy Marsh was well aware of the fact.

They'd blown it, because Billy Marshall had gone with the opposition,

in the wily guise of Lew Grade.

In 1961, Grade gave the boys a second chance

to make their own series, this time at ATV.

Their show would play on the commercial channel for seven years,

before BBC boss Billy Cotton lured them back

to make programmes for the first time in colour.

-You'll be telling me next you've heard a voice from the other side.

-I have. I have.

It was Lew Grade, but the money was no good.

For Eric and Ernie, the 1970s were golden years,

especially notable for their hugely popular Christmas shows,

made every year over a six-week period.

I make the final...basically the final decision on the comedy

and Ernie is the business part of the act. He does all the business.

So about the fee tonight, I mean...

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...

Applause, applause, applause.

APPLAUSE

Tea, Ern?

Tea urn!

That's a belter, that. I haven't done that one for years.

That's one for the archives, that.

And that's where it should be - in the archives.

Oh, look at this. Amazing.

This is the contract for Morecambe and Wise's 1977 Christmas Show.

This is an iconic moment in British television comedy.

It was something like 27 million people tuned in to watch it.

It's been repeated many times over the years.

It's known as a sort of high watermark of British light entertainment.

# Drinks like a dame

# Ah, ah

# And nothing thinks like a dame

# Ah, ah... #

And... How interesting.

The engagement fee for that show was £10,000.

In today's money, that works out at £25,000 each

for Morecambe and Wise for their 1977 Christmas Show.

Though if Billy Marsh were around today,

he'd more than likely be asking for at least twice that price for topline acts.

You get a much fairer share now as a comedian

than you used to do 25 years ago.

And the very reason I got involved

in setting up an independent production company

and having some sort of influence

over how material of clients was exploited

was to let them have a fair share.

Having got their fair share,

Peter Bennett-Jones has also given comedians the chance

to give something back.

It's Comic Relief!

Comic Relief, the charity formed by the comedy business more than 25 years ago,

has now raised over £800 million.

The comedy community have been phenomenal in the way they've supported it.

Nobody gets paid, nobody does it because they think it's going to make them more famous,

they do it because they want to make the world a better place.

And so I think it's a phenomenal national achievement, in a way, on all sides.

It's the comedy business chipping back.

Remember London's Wembley Arena?

This is John Drury.

He was here almost 20 years ago when Newman and Baddiel booked in

for that first comedy arena gig.

Fully seated, it's about 10,500.

Part standing, main capacity is 12,500.

What was a novelty is now a trend.

For all arenas, comedy is becoming a key part of the business.

From 1993 through to 2007,

I think we averaged one a year.

But from 2008 to this year,

we average now eight a year.

And we see that trend continuing. If anything, it will grow.

One comic who likes to play here is Michael McIntyre.

I'll show you the dressing rooms.

We've got nine down this side of the arena...

all of varying shapes and sizes.

Here's a smaller one.

This was the one that Michael McIntyre used when he came in in 2009.

It was the first time he'd played the arena. He played six nights.

The same year, we had Fleetwood Mac playing three nights.

His version of events was, "I'm doing OK, aren't I?"

I said, "Yeah, you're double Fleetwood Mac. That's pretty good."

He liked that very much.

Playing arenas, though, doesn't just make comics feel good.

There's not a band, there's not dancers, there's no effects, even.

It's just a person and a microphone.

So if you were doing a stadium tour with a person and a microphone,

then, you know, "We'll put some screens in." It's incredibly cheap.

So people can make an enormous amount of money very quickly.

People like Lee Evans, who, in September 2011,

grossed around £2.5 million over just six nights

at London's O2 Arena.

But these gigs aren't for everyone.

I've done arenas and, for me, that umbilical cord

that I feel between myself and the audience -

it might be a weird way of putting it,

but I feel this massive connection, like a conversation -

I feel that has gone in an arena.

I prefer to do more intimate spaces.

I don't understand why young comics now,

apart from financial reasons, want to play these huge arenas.

I kind of feel it's a bit of a pissing contest, you know.

Because the best of humour is about a kind of intimacy

and I think you lose that when you have a theatre

with probably more than about 1,400.

Another beloved venue for comedians is the Manchester Arena.

Sarah Hodson is the booker.

In 2002,

we had just two sell-out comedy shows.

In 2011, we had over 30.

We've had Lee Evans, Russell Howard,

Frankie Boyle, Michael McIntyre, John Bishop.

No shortage of acts, then.

But one man above all owns this place.

And he's local.

# When the day is dawning

# On a Texas Sunday morning... #

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Please welcome Peter Kay!

This was Peter Kay's first appearance in 2005.

That yellow jacket is a nod to his past life as a steward

in this very arena, when he'd take home £4 an hour.

Hello, everybody!

These seats would have been pushed back,

so the stage would have been about here.

So for an arena, and for, you know, 12,000 people,

the back row is pretty close.

LAUGHTER

Me mum's in tonight.

So I don't have to give her three rings.

Do ever do that? Give your mum three rings, let her know you're safe?

After the second ring, she picks it up, so what's the point of that?

The only thing you could compare Peter's sales to

were acts like Take That, where they've come in and just added

show after show after show and people are crazy for tickets.

We never thought we'd see that for comedy.

Back on Edinburgh's Royal Mile,

a thousand wannabes are dreaming of selling out show after show.

Cynics might say they're headed straight for a job

at the nearest call centre...

ALL MOAN

..but, then, cynics might once have said that about Eddie Izzard.

My name is Eddie Izzard. It's a rather strange name.

It's got two Zs in it. It's going on every night.

I've got a load of details about it. I think it's fun.

It's an hour and five minutes. It's on tonight.

Here he is, hustling for business in Edinburgh 22 years ago.

CROWD: Three, two, one!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

-You happy? Ready?

-Yeah, I'm fine.

-OK.

Today, Eddie's back in town

and he doesn't need a monocycle.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

CHEERING STOPS

CHEERING STARTS AND STOPS

Now a comedy promoter, he's helping two acts new to the UK.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

But what does his agent think of him pushing the boundaries

and doing something different?

I wouldn't say to somebody,

"Don't do that, it will be career suicide,"

unless I really felt it,

cos their instincts are so good about what they're good at.

At the beginning, just bed the thing in.

No problem, don't even think about it.

It's like you're a test pilot, you're test piloting a new plane.

'Eddie is his own man.'

Yes, he has these ambitions. You know,

he sweeps you up with this incredible enthusiasm, and he'll do it,

whether or not I put my head in my hands.

But he's never failed.

Outside on the unforgiving streets,

the competition is engaged in a massive poster and leafleting war.

Improvisational comedy rapper.

Have you ever heard of him before? No. Go and see him, sir.

Five-star reviews. Thank you.

This year at Edinburgh, there were almost 400 comics

jostling for position, and almost as many agents.

There's been this explosion of comedy and there's been an explosion of interest

from the industry, and it has become extremely commercial.

They've created enough hype around it to make people feel,

if they're a budding comedian, they have to do Edinburgh.

A lot of what goes on is not about selling tickets.

The poster wars are all about making your client get more recognition

than somebody else's client. And all of that costs money.

There are phenomenal PR budgets being spent on shows

that could never be justified by trying to sell the tickets,

because that's not what they're about.

They're about trying to position the artist in the industry

for life beyond Edinburgh.

Who's next?

At London's Comedy Store, amateur night is in full swing.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

You think the interval's good, wait till you see this. Who's next, Helen?

This is a bloody contest in which the audience shows little mercy.

HE SIGHS

Um... I tried to... I tried to go to the bank the other day.

So...er...sharks are funny, aren't they?

One card...

two cards, three cards.

'Now everybody's coming here with a plan.

'They all want to be the next Michael McIntyre.'

They see this as a career.

And it is.

APPLAUSE

Let me clarify at this point -

I'm not the guy from The Hangover Part II.

If I can be on TV, that would be amazing,

but if I'm literally a paid professional comedian,

that's all I can ask for, really.

I really want to just punch through and get to that next level

where you start making all right money and stuff.

My main ambition right now with the stand-up

is to get to the point where I get a set on the Apollo.

I'd like to achieve that within the next five years.

As for tonight's winner, Matt Rees, what's his strategy?

I dropped out of university last year to do comedy full-time,

so fuck you, Dad.

LAUGHTER

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Britain's comedy boom, especially the boom on TV,

has clearly inspired these young performers.

Two cards, three cards.

But where does that leave the clubs where, over 30 years ago,

the boom began?

'There are multimillionaire comedians

'but, equally, there are more struggling comedians too.'

I understand, you know, the regular kind of club circuit,

numbers are slightly down now.

You know, like, they'll cancel the Thursday,

whereas, they were doing Thursday, Friday, Saturday.

We will lose, I think, in the next few years,

quite a lot of clubs. There will be an awful lot of casualties.

Now, friends of mine, they say you have to wait months for gigs,

sometimes you have to pay the venue for an open spot

and then they still don't pay you for ages and ages and ages

until, basically, maybe, you've been on the telly

and then there's some cachet and then they'll start paying you.

And it's not just the little guy who's noticing the squeeze.

Four years ago, there were ten,

15, of us touring.

I think now...50.

So I'm totally feeling it. I do a signing after my show,

I'm surrounded by everyone's posters and I'm looking and thinking,

"There's no way you'd have been touring two years ago. You're touring? Blimey.

"I don't even know who you are and you're touring big venues.

"You're playing the Hammersmith Apollo? I've never heard of you."

And I'm in the bloody industry.

One year, my parents got me hide-and-seek for Christmas.

That's taking the mick, isn't it?

You can't give somebody hide-and-seek - it's just an idea!

It's been around for hundreds of years. You can't do that.

My mum went, "Oh, it's the thought that counts."

Well, I've got a thought, Mum.

You're going to a home. How about that?

There is actually a point where you do explode

cos it's like comedy has fallen for this capitalist concept of endless growth

and at some point...it stops.

At some point, there are...

too many Michael McIntyre DVDs.

You'll hear a little pop somewhere in the universe

as the fabric of reality implodes when that happens.

# But that joke isn't funny any more

# It's too close to home and it's too near the bone

# It's too close to home and it's too near the bone

# More than you'll ever know... #

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