Alex Mitchell

Asked to describe himself Alex uses the words:

“If I’m advertising myself, I go with queer, disabled comedian and writer.”

You might recognise him as a Britain’s Got Talent competitor. The funny, sweet, young guy who didn’t tell his parents he was auditioning but made it from TV audition, to the semi-finals, to the final.

I know him because I was at the very first gig he ever did. I was the opening act and he was doing a middle spot. It was a tough old gig, and he had lied about his experience to get some stage time. A baptism of fire. The audience was three very drunk women and an older man with a large Captain Birdseye’s Beard, refusing to smile.

As Alex says:

“As a first experience, I was like, this is insane.”

Since then we have gigged together a couple of times, and I have appeared on line-ups that he has hosted. He has learned about my challenges with navigation and I have watched him hone his craft.

And then we didn’t see each other for a while, and the next thing I saw was an Instagram reel of his BGT TV audition. He was funny and fearless, open about his sexuality, his autism, his tics and taking on the crowd and judges with a big-hearted presence. I felt something like maternal pride watching him. (I should point out that I am not his mother – the pride belongs to her – but I did feel something quite overwhelming and protective towards him as I watched him hold a large audience’s rapt and joyful attention).

Alex has worked hard to progress in comedy.

I’ll let Alex explain the comedy scene and its levels of progression, often dangled in front of new comedians as easily achievable with just a bit of application and perseverance.

“The levels – the open mic – everyone can do this, and I would recommend anyone should give it a go. The step after that is getting onto professional gigs, not necessarily getting paid, and then the jump is getting to be the paid act and then the professional circuit. Those jumps are absolutely huge. It’s not like any other job where you might naturally progress. Therefore, it is important that you have some edge. Comedy isn’t just about material, writing, your delivery – it is also about how likeable are you, your on-line presence. Just walking around in the street. How you engage with people is such a large part of it.”

And so I met with Alex to have a vegan curry in a bar in Leeds, because I felt he had a story to tell. There were lessons in there for all aspiring performers and story-tellers. And Alex could offer his own particular (some might say peculiar) perspective on it all.

Our chat was wide-ranging and covered quite a lot of comedy circuit gossip, which is going to remain redacted. We also spent a lot of time talking about identity politics in comedy, because comedy is a workplace without HR.

But let’s start with Alex’s origin story. Some of us drift into comedy. Some of us have no plan when we get there. (I might be talking about myself there). Alex, however, made definite choices with a specific ambition.

“I have always wanted to do stand-up since I was like 13. I have a classic origin story, of staying up in my bedroom and watching all the comedy – since I was like 9. By my teens I thought I really want to do it. I had one teacher at school who was just really loved and was brilliant and his lessons were conversation based – he always let us just have a chat – and then I found out I could make him laugh. He was really great, a young teacher, he loved chatting with us and he encouraged us to be and say things a bit stupid. We filmed each other, and wrote sketches. I started coming up with really stupid characters and things that like that were really, really cool. And we did for that a year at college. I just enjoyed making people laugh.”

So, a long-seated desire. But it took Covid to turn it into an action.

“I’d gone to university in 2019. And I dropped out after a full breakdown, which later worked its way into a comedy set. And had months where I was very, very unwell. Six months later I got my first job at a school. I worked in primary schools … but my job was keeping the kids happy. Ensuring they were happy to be there was my main goal. I was being paid for being a bit stupid and I loved it.

I did that for a few years. And all through Covid while teaching from home, I was doing one -to-one support for a kid who had autism, I did all those lessons on line, but in the spare time, the short amounts of spare time, I started writing material.”

And that led to the leap of that first gig.

But what about the leap to Britain’s Got Talent?

“I gigged massively for years. I gigged four or five times a week for nearly two years. I ran a gig with a friend, because we thought we could make a little bit of money for a while, to pay for petrol money. But I realised I could be a good MC and promoter or a good act, but I couldn’t necessarily do both and I valued being on stage more.

And then we did all that for a while and then last August, 2023, an opportunity came up to apply to be on BGT and at that point, I had no money, I’d run out completely. There was no change. I couldn’t afford to do comedy anymore. And so the option I had there, was saying: what is the better excuse for quitting comedy – is it, oh I ran out of money, or is it I died on my arse on national television? What is the better excuse? Of course, it is that I died on my arse on national television.”

Alex talked me through the process of the BGT auditions, the call to be on the TV audition and the move from the producers office to a live national TV performance in front of millions in the semi-finals and finals.

It was a real privilege to talk to Alex about BGT, because I got to see him reframe the experience in real time, to hear him talk about the highs and the lows.

After the semi-finals:

“Over the night, the tabloids went crazy. Everything was about the unexpected rise of me and who I was. Tabloids went a bit nuts for me… The press were being quite nice to me and who I was.”

And then after the finals, in which he felt that his material didn’t go down so well in the room:

“One tabloid described me as a car crash of woke. One tabloid mocked up a one star review, another one called me ‘boring’ , one described me as the UK television disappointment of the year. I got absolutely hounded. Just as my career was started it’s over.”

I watched him relive the fickle response of the tabloids, the bullying on social media. But also I saw his face take on the enormity of what he had achieved:

“I’m a fulltime comedian now, it is scary. But if I didn’t do it now, when would I do it. The platform I’ve just been given it would be silly not to do it.”

And this final comment:

“I don’ regret doing the show. I loved it. Doing the show I had the best time of my life. I’m a ten times better comic for doing it… It was a way to get onto national television by a show watched by millions. I am incredibly grateful for the show. I wouldn’t change a thing about it – I mean I would, I’d win and walk away with a quarter million pounds.”

So, there I was interviewing a full-time comedian with an agent and a tour booked in. (Go and see him – he really is very good).

Part way through our chat our vegan curry arrived. The server told us to eat the okra fries first as they go cold quickest And it just seems like the perfect comparison for where Alex is now. He has something hot. He needs to work with it now. He needs to eat it while it is still relevant, or some other mixed metaphor.

So, what messages can I pass on from our chat. There’s plenty that will remain redacted. This is not going to be where I share the gossip on Simon Cowell or the West Yorkshire comedy troll. But these are the things I’m taking away from it all:

• Comedy is only fun for those who want to do it. If you’re not enjoying it, neither is your audience

• Comedy is not only about writing and delivery, it is a whole package. You need to enjoy it all. Including social media:

“What I’ve learnt is that work can’t just be stand-up. Stand-up is not where you are going to earn your money. You’ll earn money for a bit, an o.k. amount, but if you really want to be in people’s rooms you have to be a social media manager. Even writing social media posts I class that as writing. You have to be clever about what you write. You have to be very clever about how you write that tweet. You have to try and get in magazines, newspapers, interviews, so many other things that get you the work. Stand up is the bit I love the most, but it is only one bit.”

• Find the way of writing that works for you. I’m a daily morning pages kind of gal. Alex is an inspiration strikes at 3am type of guy. We both write. We both understand our own processes and are not trying to adopt anyone else’s.

• Embrace who you are and love it. Comedy operates without Human Resources. So, you have to bring your own values to every space. Decide what you will challenge and how. And decide when you’re going to walk away.

• Your differences give you an edge and relatability. Not everyone is autistic, queer and disabled, but everyone can relate to not fitting in at some point. The universal is found in the specifics.

Alex has so much to offer creatively. We talked about future plans, and there will be more comedy, hopefully more television, but I’m also interested to see if he writes that children’s book. As a mother to an autistic daughter, it would have been great to have given her the chance to read an autistic author. I hope others get that chance to see themselves on the pages of a book.

My final question to Alex was about me.

Who’s interview was more fun – mine or Lorraine Kelly’s?

It’s good to know that he chose me. After all, he got a free curry and he didn’t have to worry about what John Cleese was about to say…. (all show business gossip is redacted).

For more details of Alex’s tour go to:

https://gagreflex.co.uk/shows/tics-towards-puffection/

Follow him on Instagram at: @alexmitchellcomedy