First, Russell Brand is convicted of rape, and now fellow comedy star David Walliams stands accused of predatory behaviour towards teenage girls. He denies all of the allegations made by the and ITV in their investigation published on Tuesday. But it’s been a bad few weeks for famous funny men. 

And as we frantically cast our eyes over footage and photos from the pomp of both comedy stars, looking for who might have known, a lot of familiar faces are there next to them, grinning and laughing at the jokes about their flamboyant personas and “womanising” reputations. 

In a 2007 clip, Noel Fielding jokes with Brand about rape during their appearance on The Big Fat Quiz of the Year on Channel 4. In another video from 2013, Richard Herring chuckles as Brand quips on his podcast: “I raped someone once.”

Why does comedy seem to be such fertile ground for the kind of man who enjoys a rape joke? What causes them to multiply like mushrooms in a damp cellar? I think it’s the safety of comedy’s ever-present boys’ club. 

But if you start pointing out individual parts of the much larger issue of misogyny in comedy, those parts take objection to being singled out and get defensive. So how do we ask them all, very nicely, to admit that the boys’ club is the problem? Because politeness doesn’t seem to have worked. 

Some of the clips I mentioned come from a “different time”. But it was last month that comedian Vittorio Angelone faced a huge backlash online to a rape joke he made in 2025. It was during a comedy roast on the Have a Word podcast in which he made a woman the butt of his gag to the amusement of the audience, which included 11 other comedians.

Comic Daniel Sloss was caught up in the controversy because he was there too and he laughed along, despite building a reputation on his fierce allyship to women, and on telling other men to call out their male friends rather than stay silent. Initially, he apologised, and then posted an angry rebuttal which rather spoiled the effect. He said that while the original apology still stood, he’d like to provide seven pages of context about the roast, his career and who he now blames for joining in the pile-on, including journalists, agents and fellow comics.

But there it is again, the boys’ club that enjoys a bit of private misogyny and doesn’t appreciate being called out for it. Not 20 years ago. Now. 

The women who work in comedy are so tired of explaining why their lives are still harder than their male counterparts. A comedian I know who has been working in the industry for a long time tells me about an experience she had this year. She was booked on a bill with a man she knew to be a predator. When she told the promoter, well in advance, that she didn’t want to share a bill with him, the promoter suggested she cancel. Not the predator, her. In 2026. 

If you thought the shop window of the comedy industry in the 21st century looked impressively diverse, featuring as it does women, people of colour, people with disabilities and trans and non-binary people, you’d be half right. Out front, things do look pretty healthy. But behind the scenes, the industry is still run by men and a few women, many of whom have learned to appease the men in order to succeed.  

Comedy is an institutionally hospitable place to be a problematic man. As long as you bring in the punters, there will always be other men to protect you and someone who’ll employ you. 

The boys’ club banter might have been nearer to the surface 20 years ago, but it’s still there now in a shallow grave covered in a light dusting of vague allyship and “thoughts with all the women who have come forward”. In an industry of freelancers vying for the limited TV opportunities available to stand-ups now, you’ll find ambition most often trumps speaking out.  

star Joanne McNally recently faced a backlash for appearing on Jimmy Fallon’s in the US after the host had platformed rapist Conor McGregor. She told her social media followers, “He’s ruined enough women’s lives… I’ll be taking the opportunity.” It’s hard to argue with her logic.

Conversely, panel show regular Lucy Beaumont spoke out this week about her part in the Walliams investigation after she had heard direct information from others working in the industry and passed it onto . She worries that speaking out will cost her future TV work. 

Think about that for a minute. A hugely successful stand-up fears for her prospects because she tried to do the right thing. Tell me again that comedy has changed and that the industry isn’t still slave to a handful of “magic” celebrities who get to operate with impunity while most of the male comics seem to have gone temporarily deaf. 

Why didn’t the woman abused come forward? Why didn’t she report it? It’s the question asked over and over when historical reports finally come to light. And the short answer is – the boys’ club. You don’t have to be a “bad man” to benefit from this club. Most men in comedy enjoy the perks whether they denigrate their female colleagues or not. Bills are still male-heavy, green rooms can be inhospitable to female and non-binary comics. 

I ask my friend the comedian what a new female comic could expect from a green room in 2026. “They can expect to be thought of as one of the act’s girlfriends,” she says. Her advice to new non-male acts coming into the business is practical and profoundly depressing. 

“I would say – make sure you know where you’re staying and how you are getting home. Sometimes you have ‘accommodation provided’ and it’s a sofa in the promoter’s house or shared with another comic. Get a hotel booking reference. Check the last train times.” 

She might as well have added: “Carry your keys between your knuckles and don’t go out in the dark.” 

If the live circuit lacks any regulation, the online space is potentially even more dangerous for new acts as they make opportunities for themselves by posting their own content. Last week I was made aware of an older figure in the comedy world who generously offers mentoring and support to these upcoming talents. Multiple rumours suggest his motives aren’t as altruistic as they seem. I’m told he’s been doing this for years. 

In this week of dramatic headlines, is this the turning point every woman in comedy has been waiting for? With one rapist in prison and another man accused of the serious abuse of his fame, could comedy’s #MeToo reckoning be about to burst its considerable dam? 

It all depends on the men. And they are mostly silent.  

‘Don’t Make Me Laugh’, Julia Raeside’s novel about misogyny in the comedy industry, is out now (Bedford Square, £9.99 paperback)