"I got invited to David Walliams's wedding . . . but I'd have just been on my own at the buffet"

A few extra bits from my interview with Russell Howard.

For those of us outside TV's coveted 18-25 age bracket, the extent of Russell Howard's popularity might not have registered. His topical comedy show Russell Howard's Good News is currently on its fourth series (with a fifth already scheduled for later in the year). It regularly makes the top-five rated shows on BBC Three, with around 800,000 viewers. His Facebook page, meanwhile, has 1,632,805 fans.

I interviewed Russell for the current issue of the New Statesman, covering his politics ("I don't really have a political agenda -- I just like things to be fair; I get angered by pomposity"), his policy on naughty jokes and the Daily Mail website ("It leaves me utterly depressed"). The full piece will be online later in the week but, in the meantime, here are a few bits there wasn't room for in the magazine . . .

How much do you police your jokes for whether or not they're going to cause offence?

The test I always like to do is: would I do that in front of the person? If I wouldn't, I won't say it. Also, because it's my show and it's me, I would rather -- and this sounds profoundly wanky -- I'd rather it was beautiful and brilliant rather than just slagging someone off.

When we did the Chilean miners, every comedy show was [doing sketches] about the idea of them shagging each other. It was all quite obvious stuff, I thought. We made it about Mario Sepulveda. They were all offered wheelchairs, after all those weeks and the trial they'd been through, and he said: "I won't need that wheelchair -- but my wife will." The crowd was like "Wahey!" I just like that utter bravado. So we concentrated on that and ignored the idea of them shagging each other down there, which I think people were a bit bored with.

Is there any topic that is completely off-limits for you?

We look at the merits of each story and try to figure out whether it's funny or not and sort of go from there. It's not as if we go, 'Oh, we must not talk about this,' or, 'We must not talk about that.' We just try to work it out. There was a story last year about a guy who had banned gay people from coming into his bakery and we did a whole load of jokes about that.

He banned gay people from coming into his bakery?

Yeah, it's amazing isn't it? And I put forward the joke that any man who makes a living by pumping cream into buns is in no position to criticise the gay community. We're sort of tucked away on BBC3, really, and they let us get on with it.

Being on BBC3, you've ended up with a huge young fanbase. I asked your fans on Facebook what I should ask you about -- and one asked whether you were writing an autobiography.

I haven't really thought about it. I'm only 30, so hopefully I have a bit more time to do more stuff . . . What I should do is let my mum ghost-write it and then we'd have a book! By Christ, we'd have a book!

Do your parents ever offer you comedy advice?

My dad likes to. I mean, he's a businessman, he designs call centres, but he's also working on an idea for a children's TV character and it's terrible. And me and my sister go: 'It's the BFG, it is the BFG!' It's about this old guy who gives dreams to children. And we're like 'Dad, it's the fucking BFG!'

My dad occasionally will give me ideas and stuff like that and I have to politely turn them down. But he loves it, he really enjoys it. But my mum is unwittingly funny and I take quite a lot of stuff from her because she just has no idea of how funny she is.

What about your friends? Have any of them ever minded cropping up in a routine?

I ask them and also I change their names as well, so if there's anything particularly embarrassing, I ask them if it's OK. If it isn't, I won't do it but I always change their names.

Obviously, you live in the glamorous metropolitan hot spot of Leamington Spa. Have you ever lived in London, gone to the Ivy and Soho House and lived the "celebrity" lifestyle?

The reason I live in Leamington is basically because my girlfriend is doing medicine at Warwick, so we moved in together and that was the easiest place for her. And because I'm a stand-up, living in the middle of the country is great. Since we moved there, I've been doing loads of stuff on telly so I bought a flat in Maida Vale with my brother, so I have the best of both worlds.

When I'm in London, I spend a lot of time with my brother and my mates around there playing five-a-side football and stuff like that. Not really going to the Ivy. I've been once, last week, actually. It was brilliant, I really enjoyed it. But I think it should be wildly exciting and like, "Ahh, this is pretty cool, innit?" because if you lose that, you won't be a particularly good stand-up comedian. "Y'know in the Ivy when the service is ridiculously good and everything tastes great, what's up with that?" "Y'know when your butler's really uppity in the morning? Would it kill him to chew gum? He stinks!" So I try and lead a normal life.

Also, I feel awkward in those situations . . . I might change in a few years. I mean, I got invited to David Walliams's wedding and that's pretty nice -- but I'd just be on my own, just stood around, eating fucking loads of food at the buffet, going: "Hey Elton, Elton, have you tried these sausage rolls?" Because that's what happens to me at normal weddings: I always end up on my own in a corner, so it'd be exactly like that -- except with famous people.

God knows what it's like to get into that world where you're desperate to get into the papers . . .

Have you ever been papped?

No, I get a few photos occasionally when you go into Radio One, basically the doors open then you see flash, flash . . . then -- Oh, it's you -- and the clicks stop, which is pretty funny.

I can't imagine what it must be like seeing various celebrities going, "Oh, I'll go to that nightclub because there'll be lots of paps there. Hopefully there'll be an up-skirt shot of me in the paper!" Those bastards that do that, the up-skirt shots, can you imagine that? It doesn't get worse than that.

Presumably you've had stuff written about you in the papers that you didn't like . . .

I'm pretty seriously annoyed with Closer magazine. I was talking about getting married with my girlfriend and did this joke: "We are going to get married one day because the further you go on, your girlfriend turns gradually into Gollum."

They didn't run the interview with me -- they put a photo of me looking really cross and just a speech bubble that had me going: "Better get married soon because my girlfriend's turning into Gollum." I said to them, "You know I didn't say that." Her mates had seen it and just [asked me] what the fuck are you doing? So now I don't speak to Closer.

The other thing that pissed me off was the Independent said last year that I earn £4m, which I didn't. My mates are like, "Alright, moneybags!" and I had to show them my bank balance. That slightly pissed me off because it makes me look like this greedy bastard. I mean, I don't do any corporate gigs or adverts or things like that. I just do gigs.

Russell Howard's Good News mixes serious issues and jokes. How do you find the right balance?

We just decide which of the heavier stories we want to slip in. So it's: "Here's a funny one, here's a funny one, but this is a bit fucked up. Here's a funny one, here's a funny one, bloody hell! Did you hear about this?" It has to be like a snaking conversation with your mates in the pub. That's kind of the aim. You chat and you're being really silly and funny and then suddenly you talk about Colonel Gaddafi. It's that kind of bizarre tone.

Russell Howard's Good News is on Thursdays at 10.30pm on BBC3.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

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Defining The Defenders: the long history of the superhero team-up

Netflix's new show draws on an established traditon of bringing together disparate characters.

Today Marvel’s The Defenders dropped worldwide. It’s the culmination of Marvel Studios’ interlinked series for Netflix, and all episodes will be available simultaneously as is the streaming services’ wont.

The Defenders, and the Netflix series that have preceded it, seem modelled on how the Marvel Cinematic Universe films have worked in multiplexes. At least superficially. Characters get their own solo films/series, which become increasingly interlinked over time, before all featuring together in an onscreen ‘team up’. Here, they combine against a threat greater than any they could plausibly win against on their own, sparring and generating alliances, friendships and even enmities in the process.

This structure, of course, is Marvel’s film and TV projects aping their source material. Marvel’s comics, and superhero comics more generally, have long relished the "team up" and the "super team". The use of this approach by Marvel’s other media ventures is intuitively right, allowing the mass audience for film and television to experience one of the specific pleasures of how superhero comics work in the characters’ new medium.

The concept of the super team goes back a long way. The Justice Society of America, from Marvel’s Distinguished Competition, is usually considered the first. They debuted in All-Star Comics #3 (1940) and the team consisted of the Flash (the Jay Garrick version, Flash TV fans), Green Lantern, Hawkman, and now lesser known characters like Hour-Man, the Sandman (not the Neil Gaiman one), the Atom, The Spectre and Doctor Fate. Within a few issues Wonder Woman would join: as secretary. Because it was the 1940s.

What’s interesting about this initial super team is that half of these characters were published by All-American Comics (who actually published All-Star) and half by DC Comics themselves, making this an inter-company crossover. (The companies would later merge). It also used to be claimed as the first example of characters created separately, and with no intention of them being connected, interacting. It isn’t. There are countless examples in the pulp fictions of the late nineteenth century, but the claim stood for so long because it felt right that the original super team should be the source of such meta-fictional innovation.

The Defenders were created much later in comics history and first appeared in 1971’s Marvel Feature #1. The team, though, had its origins in the "Titans Three" an informal grouping of heroes who appeared in a three part story serialised across Doctor Strange #183 (November 1969), Sub-Mariner #22 (February 1970), and The Incredible Hulk #126 (April 1970).

All three of those comics were written by Roy Thomas. Caught on the hop by the sudden cancellation of Doctor Strange (#183 was the final issue), he wrapped up ongoing plotlines from the cancelled comic in other series he scripted, bringing the now title-less Strange into those other series in the process. A couple more appearances of the group together followed, before the team was formally named in the aforementioned Marvel Feature #1.

Dr Strange. The Sub-Mariner. The Incredible Hulk. It’s quite likely that anyone reading this who is only familiar with the publicity for Netflix’s The Defenders would be surprised by that roster of headline characters. (And that’s assuming they’re even familiar with Namor the Sub-Mariner, a character of 1939 vintage who has not yet reached the MCU.) This is a radically different group to Daredevil, Jessica Jones (a character not even created until the 21st century), Luke Cage and Iron Fist, the stars of the current TV series. None of the telly team are characters a Marvel zombie would associate with The Defenders, although Iron Fist has been a very occasional member of the team’s roster, as has Luke Cage. (In which context, it’s unfortunate that Iron Fist has been the least liked of Netflix’s series, with a mere 17 per cent approval on Rotten Tomatoes.)

The complete absence of all three of the original Defenders from its television incarnation could be seen as an odd decision. Neither Benedict Cumberbatch’s Steven Strange nor Mark Ruffalo’s Bruce Banner are expected to turn up, even for cameos. Marvel Studios has policed a strict division between its Netflix series and its cinematic outings, despite announcing them as being set in the same "continuity". The fourth "classic" Defender is even less likely to turn up. The Silver Surfer (who joined the team in 1972, less than a year after it was formed) is, due to some bad deal making in the 90s, off limits to the MCU. His film rights sit with Fox, who utilised him in the rightly all but forgotten Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007). 

One of the reasonably consistent features of previous incarnations of The Defenders is that the characters have generally faced mystical threats. They first teamed up to fight monsters from HP Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos, and generally their antagonists have operated on that kind of scale. With Stephen Strange in the gang, that makes sense. You don’t need the sorcerer supreme to take out organised crime. But organised crime is largely what you’d expect Daredevil, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones and Iron Fist to take on, especially based on the Netflix versions of the characters. All four are "street-level" heroes, operating in New York, interacting with characters like murderous vigilante The Punisher and Kingpin of Crime Wilson Fisk. Perhaps splitting the difference, their team up series will see them take on The Hand. This is a ninja organisation, with mystical origins, that is nevertheless involved in organised crime and can be presented, as it has been so far for Netflix, within the context of crime stories.

Marvel’s Chief Creative Officer Joe Quesada has defended The Defenders being The Defenders by pointing out that the original team are largely unknown outside comics fandom, and their name means nothing to the public at large. (Although they have, of course, heard of all three of its constituent members.) Of course, for some this might sensible provoke the question "Why use it then?" What is this series called The Defenders at all?

The (original) Defenders were seen as a "non-team", a phrase occasionally used in the pages of their appearances. There was something deconstructive about this kind of team up. It was the pairing of characters who were unsuited to working, even to appearing, together and who would really rather not. (They had, after all, been brought together in the first place simply because Roy Thomas happened to write their separate titles.) The stories told with the group in some ways challenged and confronted the cliches of the decades old form that had begun back in All-Star Comics #3.

The line-up, and tone, of Netflix’s Defenders more resembles that of another, deliberately slightly interrogative non-team, that of the short-lived Marvel Knights book of 2000-2001. This did share The Defenders somewhat abstract definition of "team", featuring characters who didn’t like each other and didn’t want to work together, albeit without any mystical element to how they were brought together. Marvel Knights was also, in theory, the flagship of the line of the same name, at the time edited by... Joe Quesada. Hmm.

In recent years, Marvel have frequently cheerfully remodelled their comics - the original medium for almost all their characters - in order to incorporate changes and innovations pioneered as part of their film and television projects. Remixing their characters and the way they are grouped together in response to the success of their screen empire. The Guardians of the Galaxy, for example, have become more prominent in the comics, while characters whose film rights lie with film companies other than Marvel’s own, such as the aforementioned Fantastic Four, have been pushed to the margins. Accordingly, this August sees the launch of a new The Defenders title, featuring the lineup of characters from the television series.

Some loyal comics readers see this a case of the tail wagging the dog. Others might like to take notice of the metaphor used by comics writer Grant Morrison in his 2011 book SuperGods: Our World In The Age Of The Superhero. There, Morrison argued that comic books, while the medium in which these characters were created, was essentially the discarded booster section of the rocket in which they had been fired into the public consciousness, reaching vastly greater audiences in the process. 

“That’s not The Defenders,” commented a friend of mine on seeing a publicity photograph for the series a few weeks ago. It is now, mate. It is now.