Composite of headshots of Susan Calman in 1978 and 2026Susan Calman in 1978 and 2026. Later photograph: Simon Webb/The Guardian. Styling: Andie Redman. Hair and makeup: Alice Theobald at Arlington Artists using GHD and Kevyn Aucoin. Archive photograph: courtesy of Susan Calman
Born in Glasgow in 1974, Susan Calman worked as a corporate lawyer before starting standup comedy in 2006. She won a Scottish Bafta in 2007 for a Channel 4 sketch show, Blowout, and went on to become a regular on TV and radio panel shows. She hosted the podcast Mrs Brightside, co-hosts Carry On Up and has published two books, Cheer Up Love and Sunny Side Up: A Story of Kindness and Joy. She lives in Glasgow with her wife, Lee, and takes her first show in 10 years, Tall Tales, across the UK from 11 September to 20 November.
I look absolutely adorable, a little bit smug even. I’m sporting a beautiful blond bowl cut, and the outfit is quintessential 1970s. When Dad went to London for work, Mum would join him and occasionally visit Harrods to buy me, my sister and my brother something nice, like this jumpsuit. It would have been expensive, so I was only allowed to wear it for special occasions. In fact, this was the only time I wore it. We got our money’s worth in the end, though – I used this picture on the invitation for my 50th birthday party.
I was the youngest of three and probably a bit naughty. A pain in the bum. I wasn’t a clean kid – I was always in the garden, a bit of a tomboy with scabs on my knees. I was strong-minded, too. When I was little, we had a nativity at the local church and I was chosen to be Mary. It was a big deal to land that role, but I turned it down because I assumed it would involve kissing Joseph and I didn’t want to kiss a boy. Instead, I was relegated to Angel Gabriel. My parents were disappointed, but even from a young age I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t.
The first time I experienced depression was in my teens. I blame it on isolation and loneliness. I’m slightly strange and eccentric, and when you go to a nice private school in Glasgow, they don’t really like people who are different. I tried to fit in and wore the same clothes as other girls, but I never truly related to anyone my age – I didn’t fancy Jason Donovan for starters. As well as being obsessed with Victoria Wood and Billy Connolly, my favourite thing to do was to sit with my granny watching Greta Garbo, Marlene Dietrich and Judy Garland movies. I would sooner hang out at the Glasgow film theatre than try to sneak into the local club.
In the 80s and 90s in Glasgow, there wasn’t much information about being gay. Now you can go on social media and see really positive examples of people who aren’t straight, but that was not the case when I was growing up. I’ve never doubted my sexuality – as far back as I can remember I knew I was gay – but I had to wait until I was 20 and my grandma had died before I came out. She did not like gay people and she made that very clear. I got into such a state about telling my parents, but they were absolutely super about it.
In my teens I studied law, which again felt like a very normal world for an abnormal person. I had none of the requisite skills for the profession. The only reason I went into it was because back then you were either a doctor or a lawyer, and I was useless at science so that left me one option.
At first I thought I’d be a trailblazing humanitarian lawyer working for the United Nations. I believed I was going to change the world. Then reality hit – I got a traineeship at a corporate law firm and I became a corporate lawyer. Again, I didn’t like it and I didn’t fit in. I would wear Tank Girl boots into work as I had to walk a long way to get there, and one boss took me aside to tell me I needed to stop dressing like a gardener.
double quotation markI worked on death row cases at a maximum security prison. It was a shock to the system, but also the start of my world expanding
I did have some positive experiences, though. While studying law, I went to North Carolina to work on death row cases at a maximum security prison. I was meeting prisoners who had committed murder, sometimes multiple times. It was a bit of a shock to the system, but meeting people from different backgrounds was also the start of my world expanding. Afterwards, I met up with a friend who was going to a massive gay resort in Provincetown. I slept on the floor of a house where there were 20 other women staying. Glasgow still had such a small gay scene, so it was life-changing to meet hundreds of women who were so comfortable about who they were. It was an extraordinary summer of extremes.
I had always been going on about wanting to do standup, and eventually my friends got fed up with me and said, “Just try it.” A comedy club in Glasgow did something called Red Raw and I phoned them up and asked for a spot. I had never even been to a comedy club before. The compere introduced me to the stage as “Sarah Calamari” and I did an awful five minutes. I was so nervous that afterwards I was sick on myself in the toilet. In spite of that experience, I was hooked. Comedy is an industry full of weirdos – people who aren’t quite right in some way. Finally, I found my people.
It took me six years until I started getting good at standup. At the beginning I was caught up in what I thought would lead to success, but it wasn’t clicking. In 2008 I did a show that was terrible. Everyone hated it, and I did, too. I went away for three years and decided to work on a show full of long, rambling stories – and that’s when my comedy fell into place. I love Sarah Millican and Gary Delaney – all of these people who write proper jokes – but I can’t do that.
There are two main lessons I have learned in my career. The first is to have the self-assuredness to say no. The second is to come off Twitter and Facebook. I don’t need live feedback of how my Edinburgh run is going, thank you. Now I live a very nice life where people can be burbling away about me all they want and I just don’t pay any attention to it. It can still happen in real life – occasionally I’ll get a “I think that’s Susan Calman” when I’m out and about, but I don’t mind. I do have to warn my loved ones that people might be listening in to our conversations, but mostly, I don’t tend to go out very much.
The last time I toured, I was 41. I’m 51 now and the brain fog is awful. I never write down any of my shows, so the thought of remembering two hours of material is daunting. Thankfully I am on as much HRT as the doctors will give me. I have stopped drinking alcohol. I go to the gym five days a week. I’ve lost four stone. I have done everything I can to stay focused.
Perimenopause aside, I am the happiest I have ever been. I lived most of my life as a slightly odd woman, not being in the right place at the right time. I am now full of confidence and believe that everything falls into place as you get older. My teens, 20s and 30s were miserable; life got better in my 40s. But 50s? Hello, here we go! It’s as if I have finally kicked down the door and realised that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.