Cynicism is now and then expressed about the phenomenon of comedians writing books. Rare is the instance of a comic finding more success on the page than at the microphone. Step forward, then, Fern Brady, whose memoir Strong Female Character, about her experience as an undiagnosed autistic woman, has met with awards and widespread acclaim – and seems to have turbocharged the Scot’s standup career too. One assumes the book’s success was a factor in securing Brady gigs at next month’s Netflix Is a Joke festival in Los Angeles, and this new special on the streamer too – whose title, Autistic Bikini Queen, invites fans of the memoir to come savour more of the same.
Is that what they’ll get? Well, they’ll certainly get a potent hit of the 37-year-old’s unsentimental personality, as Brady – filmed at a Bristol performance last year – launches into spiky riffs on marriage and relationships. There’s not much, or at least not directly, on her experience of autism. The topic is efficiently dispatched in the opening five minutes with a droll gag about the idea that her neurodiversity is “a superpower”. There’s also a joke about her undiagnosed condition revealing itself in Brady’s squeamishness about touching or hugging her mum, which sounded to this viewer less like a symptom of autism than of Scottishness.
How dare I perpetuate such disparaging national stereotypes? Well, it must be catching: Brady herself makes some broad generalisations about her (and my) home country here, some familiar (we’re unfit and unhealthy), some less so (apparently we’re anti-abortion). But if the Scotland she describes isn’t one I recognise, I’m sure it’s true to her own experience, growing up in what sounds like a pretty strict Catholic setting, feeling forever anxious and judged as she tries to fathom why she doesn’t seem to fit.
That’s all just background here, though, to the show’s main concern, which is the Taskmaster 2022 star’s middle age, her mixed feelings about settling down and life in a long-term relationship. Her material on the institution of marriage is the show’s strongest: it’s where she finds a target worthy of her blowtorch cynicism. “I can’t imagine getting married anything other than sarcastically,” is an eye-catching line, and her horror is a thing to behold as she considers the supposed appeal of publicly declaring one’s love (“a sex tape of my emotions”, indeed) before an audience of family and friends.
This routine duly widens its focus, opening out to consider Brady and her boyfriend’s not-so-romantic backstory, and her recent failed experience of trying to arrange a civil partnership. This pragmatic take on marriage then leads us to a startling gag about assisted dying, the bleakness of which is only matched by ridiculousness of the scenario Brady constructs around it. It’s a high point of the show, where the disparate themes – ageing; Catholicism; relationships – are synthesised in a tone of voice (hoarse West Lothian accent; hardboiled worldview) that could only be Brady’s.
Next to it, there’s other material here – hating on London, say, or imagining starting a new relationship in middle age – that feels less distinctive. There are fun routines towards the end, one in response to a disturbing remark Fern’s granny made about tampons, another about her love for her cats (not all cats) – both of which dial down the cynicism but still offer a bracing rudeness and oddity. Her audience-interactive finale makes for a cheerful bolt-on. The special may not replicate Strong Female Character’s award haul, but it’s a strong standup offering from an act who’s really found her voice, on both page and stage.
• Fern Brady: Autistic Bikini Queen is on Netflix
