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"Twitter, at its worst, is a megaphone for lunatics"

Rob Brydon on Steve Coogan, Hackgate and the perils of celebrity.

Your new autobiography, Small Man in a Book, ends just as you become successful. Why?
It was a good dramatic point to end, at the age of 35, at the British Comedy Awards, which I used to watch year in, year out. When I first became successful, I was surprised people talked about my struggle. Being on the inside looking out, I didn't see it that way. Now I see it - with the way I was scraping along and how much debt I was in, if I were looking at it from the outside, I'd say, "Maybe it's not for you."

Was there a moment when it all went right?
I made the decision to leave college and work in radio, which sent me off that road. I often wonder where I would be now, if I'd not done that.

You starred in The Trip with Steve Coogan. Who had the harder role?
I think Steve's is more attractive - it's more dramatic, more introspective. But lightness is underestimated, in my opinion.

Why did that show work so well?
The age thing was very important; we were 45, starting to feel the effects of middle age on our body. And the slow pace - Michael [Winterbottom, director] is remarkable. Of all the creative people I've known, he has least regard for his audience, in a good way: he just tells his story.

Have you seen Coogan's campaign on phone-hacking and the tabloids - and his attacks on the Daily Mail's editor, Paul Dacre?
Of course. And the Mail followed it up, with the most awful photo of Steve it is possible to find. I love the choosing of photographs in newspaper articles. It's laughable, but people eat it up.

Did you see him thundering on Newsnight?
I did. Whatever you think of Steve, and I'd be the first to say he's objectionable on many levels, he stands up for what he believes in. It's remarkable to watch someone like [the ex-News of the World executive] Paul McMullan, who said: “If we catch a few corporate wrongdoers then you're a price worth paying." Whoa! What, a few innocents get killed? No! "You're happy to walk down the red carpet . . . you should be happy to be hacked." It's like saying: "You were happy to get into the taxi driver's car; he took you to Deptford where you wanted to go - yes, he assaulted you along the way, but it's a bit rich for you to complain." And there was so much envy in his tone. If you envy that, go and do it, Paul McMullan! Go and be an actor.

But some celebrities do play the system.
That's something else. We're talking about artists or performers. The others are marketing people, publicists, showmen. What I've never understood about some sections of the press [is] how you live with yourself knowing what you're doing is going to wilfully upset . . . people with feelings and families. We're not talking about war criminals here.

Do you ever wish you took more serious roles?
Not especially. I don't take that view of the dramatic inherently having more worth than the comic. I made a conscious decision about four years ago that I was just going to do what I liked.

Why is there snobbery about comedy?
Those people can fuck off. Only this morning I read on Twitter -

You don't read your @s, do you?
No. I stopped looking myself up. At its best, Twitter is a lovely community. At its worst, it's a megaphone for lunatics.

Are you tempted to reply?
I don't think I've ever succumbed. It comes back to not viewing you as a human being. You're that bloke on the telly; you're advertising breakfast cereal. The assumption is that you've got money coming out of your arse.

In the book, you talk about how the nature of laughter has changed since the 1970s and become more self-aware. Why has it?
Now, there are 57 channels and nothing on. Then, there was a gratitude that came from [knowing] we haven't got much choice here. That has to change the relationship to some degree between audience and performer, it has to.

Who are your influences?
I'm wary of someone who says, "I don't have any influences." Bollocks, you're just too up your own arse to admit that. We don't want to bang on about me, but certainly I can see all mine when I'm on stage: Ronnie Corbett, Barry Humphries, Dudley Moore, Jackie Mason, Woody Allen. Sometimes I feel like a big fraud.

Was there a plan for your career?
I wanted to be funny and entertain. That word's got a bad rap. I listened to Michael McIntyre talking about the stick he gets. People say, "Oh, he just points things out." Well, all right, you go and point things out.

Is there anything you regret?
Good lord, yes. A million things.

Are we all doomed?
Yes, we're all going to die. As a father, I feel bad saying that, as you always want to put a good face on for your kids. But it was ever thus.

Defining Moments

1965 Born in Swansea
1985 Leaves Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama for a job at Radio Wales
1989 Moves to London. Becomes presenter of a home-shopping channel
2000 Co-writes Human Remains for BBC. Takes role of Keith in Marion and Geoff
2006 Marries second wife, Claire Holland
2007 Returns to South Wales as Uncle Bryn in the breakthrough Gavin and Stacey
2010 Stars in The Trip with Steve Coogan

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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“I felt so frantic I couldn’t see my screen”: why aren’t we taking mental health sick days?

Some employees with mental health problems fake reasons for taking days off, or struggle in regardless. What should companies be doing differently?

“I would go to the loo and just cry my eyes out. And sometimes colleagues could hear me. Then I would just go back to my desk as if nothing had happened. And, of course, no one would say anything because I would hide it as well as I could.”

How many times have you heard sobbing through a work toilet door – or been the person in the cubicle?

Jaabir Ramlugon is a 31-year-old living in north London. He worked in IT for four years, and began having to take time off for depressive episodes after starting at his company in 2012. He was eventually diagnosed with borderline personality disorder last January.

At first, he would not tell his employers or colleagues why he was taking time off.

“I was at the point where I was in tears going to work on the train, and in tears coming back,” he recalls. “Some days, I just felt such a feeling of dread about going into work that I just physically couldn’t get up ... I wouldn’t mention my mental health; I would just say that my asthma was flaring up initially.”

It wasn’t until Ramlugon was signed off for a couple of months after a suicide attempt that he told his company what he was going through. Before that, a “culture of presenteeism” at his work – and his feeling that he was “bunking off” because there was “nothing physically wrong” – made him reluctant to tell the truth about his condition.

“I already felt pretty low in my self-esteem; the way they treated me amplified that”

Eventually, he was dismissed by his company via a letter describing him as a “huge burden” and accusing him of “affecting” its business. He was given a dismissal package, but feels an alternative role or working hours – a plan for a gradual return to work – would have been more supportive.

“I already felt pretty low in my self-esteem. The way they treated me definitely amplified that, especially with the language that they used. The letter was quite nasty because it talked about me being a huge burden to the company.”

Ramlugon is not alone. Over three in ten employees say they have experienced mental health problems while in employment, according to the Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development. Under half (43 per cent) disclose their problem to their employer, and under half (46 per cent) say their organisation supports staff with mental health problems well.

I’ve spoken to a number of employees in different workplaces who have had varying experiences of suffering from mental ill health at work.

***

Taking mental health days off sick hit the headlines after an encouraging message from a CEO to his employee went viral. Madalyn Parker, a web developer, informed her colleagues in an out-of-office message that she would be taking “today and tomorrow to focus on my mental health – hopefully I’ll be back next week refreshed and back to 100 per cent”.

Her boss Ben Congleton’s reply, which was shared tens of thousands of times, personally thanked her – saying it’s “an example to us all” to “cut through the stigma so we can bring our whole selves to work”.

“Thank you for sending emails like this,” he wrote. “Every time you do, I use it as a reminder of the importance of using sick days for mental health – I can’t believe this is not standard practice at all organisations.”


Congleton went on to to write an article entitled “It’s 2017 and Mental Health is still an issue in the workplace”, arguing that organisations need to catch up:

“It’s 2017. We are in a knowledge economy. Our jobs require us to execute at peak mental performance. When an athlete is injured they sit on the bench and recover. Let’s get rid of the idea that somehow the brain is different.”

But not all companies are as understanding.

In an investigation published last week, Channel 5 News found that the number of police officers taking sick days for poor mental health has doubled in six years. “When I did disclose that I was unwell, I had some dreadful experiences,” one retired detective constable said in the report. “On one occasion, I was told, ‘When you’re feeling down, just think of your daughters’. My colleagues were brilliant; the force was not.”

“One day I felt so frantic I couldn’t see my screen”

One twenty-something who works at a newspaper echoes this frustration at the lack of support from the top. “There is absolutely no mental health provision here,” they tell me. “HR are worse than useless. It all depends on your personal relationships with colleagues.”

“I was friends with my boss so I felt I could tell him,” they add. “I took a day off because of anxiety and explained what it was to my boss afterwards. But that wouldn’t be my blanket approach to it – I don’t think I’d tell my new boss [at the same company], for instance. I have definitely been to work feeling awful because if I didn’t, it wouldn’t get done.”

Presenteeism is a rising problem in the UK. Last year, British workers took an average of 4.3 days off work due to illness – the lowest number since records began. I hear from many interviewees that they feel guilty taking a day off for a physical illness, which makes it much harder to take a mental health day off.

“I felt a definite pressure to be always keen as a young high-flyer and there were a lot of big personalities and a lot of bitchiness about colleagues,” one woman in her twenties who works in media tells me. “We were only a small team and my colleague was always being reprimanded for being workshy and late, so I didn’t want to drag the side down.”

Diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, which was then changed to anxiety and depression, she didn’t tell her work about her illness. “Sometimes I struggled to go to work when I was really sick. And my performance was fine. I remember constantly sitting there sort of eyeballing everyone in mild amusement that I was hiding in plain sight. This was, at the time, vaguely funny for me. Not much else was.

“One day I just felt so frantic I couldn’t see my screen so I locked myself in the bathroom for a bit then went home, telling everyone I had a stomach bug so had to miss half the day,” she tells me. “I didn’t go in the next day either and concocted some elaborate story when I came back.”

Although she has had treatment and moved jobs successfully since, she has never told her work the real reason for her time off.

“In a small company you don’t have a confidential person to turn to; everyone knows everyone.”

“We want employers to treat physical and mental health problems as equally valid reasons for time off sick,” says Emma Mamo, head of workplace wellbeing at the mental health charity Mind. “Staff who need to take time off work because of stress and depression should be treated the same as those who take days off for physical health problems, such as back or neck pain.”

She says that categorising a day off as a “mental health sick day” is unhelpful, because it could “undermine the severity and impact a mental health problem can have on someone’s day-to-day activities, and creates an artificial separation between mental and physical health.”

Instead, employers should take advice from charities like Mind on how to make the mental health of their employees an organisational priority. They can offer workplace initiatives like Employee Assistance Programmes (which help staff with personal and work-related problems affecting their wellbeing), flexible working hours, and clear and supportive line management.

“I returned to work gradually, under the guidance of my head of department, doctors and HR,” one journalist from Hertfordshire, who had to take three months off for her second anorexia inpatient admission, tells me. “I was immensely lucky in that my line manager, head of department and HR department were extremely understanding and told me to take as much time as I needed.”

“They didnt make me feel embarrassed or ashamed – such feelings came from myself”

“They knew that mental health – along with my anorexia I had severe depression – was the real reason I was off work ... I felt that my workplace handled my case in an exemplary manner. It was organised and professional and I wasn’t made to feel embarrassed or ashamed from them – such feelings came from myself.”

But she still at times felt “flaky”, “pathetic” and “inefficient”, despite her organisation’s good attitude. Indeed, many I speak to say general attitudes have to change in order for people to feel comfortable about disclosing conditions to even the closest friends and family, let alone a boss.

“There are levels of pride,” says one man in his thirties who hid his addiction while at work. “You know you’re a mess, but society dictates you should be functioning.” He says this makes it hard to have “the mental courage” to broach this with your employer. “Especially in a small company – you don’t have a confidential person to turn to. Everyone knows everyone.”

“But you can’t expect companies to deal with it properly when it’s dealt with so poorly in society as it is,” he adds. “It’s massively stigmatised, so of course it’s going to be within companies as well. I think there has to be a lot more done generally to make it not seem like it’s such a big personal failing to become mentally ill. Companies need direction; it’s not an easy thing to deal with.”

Until we live in a society where it feels as natural taking a day off for feeling mentally unwell as it does for the flu, companies will have to step up. It is, after all, in their interest to have their staff performing well. When around one in four people in Britain experience mental ill health each year, it’s not a problem they can afford to ignore.

If your manager doesn’t create the space for you to be able to talk about wellbeing, it can be more difficult to start this dialogue. It depends on the relationship you have with your manager, but if you have a good relationship and trust them, then you could meet them one-to-one to discuss what’s going on.

Having someone from HR present will make the meeting more formal, and normally wouldn’t be necessary in the first instance. But if you didn’t get anywhere with the first meeting then it might be a sensible next step.

If you still feel as though you’re not getting the support you need, contact Acas or Mind's legal line on 0300 466 6463.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.