Scott Bennett: "The catharsis is more important than me feeling a bit uncomfortable"

Written by: Jay Richardson
Published: Wednesday 7th May 2025

Scott Bennett came to mainstream prominence last year with his set on The Royal Variety Performance. His latest stand-up show, Blood Sugar Baby, tells the story of his infant daughter Olivia falling ill with a rare genetic condition called congenital hyperinsulinism. Here, he talks about finding the humour in such dark moments, how Wayne Rooney came into their lives and the sitcom that he's currently working on for the BBC.

Blood Sugar Baby is starting a run at the Soho Theatre. Does that feel like a stamp of approval?

Yeah, it's my first time there as well, which is really exciting. I'm very proud of the show and it's a great space to be able to do it in. I can't wait.

Has it been a difficult show to find the right tone for, balancing the sense of jeopardy with laughs?

Do you know what? It's actually been the easiest show I've ever written. And it didn't feel like it was going to be. I'd mentioned our experiences to Rob Beckett. Then chatting about it on Parenting Hell [Beckett's podcast with Josh Widdicombe, in 2023], chatting to other comics, the natural thing was for us to make it funny when the story became uncomfortable and tense.

The tale is so rich and unbelievable that there's not much I need to do in terms of the structure. As a comic, that's always the bit that can feel forced. Or like you're deliberately trying to manipulate the audience. Whereas this happened and my daughter's fine now, so it's uplifting. I see it from a point of hope and celebration rather than sadness. And it'll be 15 years ago next week, so it feels as if there's distance.

When you're in the middle of something like this, going through it, it's not funny. But looking back, you can see it more clearly for what it is. So the show actually came together quicker than anything else I've written.

Had you previously dismissed it as a subject for a stand-up show?

I had. And a lot of that was wondering how would I make it funny. But Rob and Josh's response on Parenting Hell, and the amount of people that got in touch after the podcast, parents saying "no-one ever talks about this", it changed my thinking. Everyone assumes when they have a baby that the worst you're going to have to deal with is sleepless nights and decorating a nursery. But the reality is that it can go really off-piste, to the extent that you might not know what you're dealing with.

I feel there's a lot of parents crying out for that relatable stuff. In my normal stand-up, I'm always trying to find the relatable and this was just another relatable experience, only a little bit different. There's still comedy in living in a hospital though. There's still comedy in how you pull together, how you have to step up and fight for your child when you normally can't deal with confrontation. It produced jokes that I would never have conceived outside of this story. The more I thought about it, the more I realised it was fertile ground for stand-up.

Even if you've watched stand-up shows about trauma, I guess it's difficult to appreciate how you can create something artistic out of it until you've been through such a situation yourself?

Yeah, there's a lot to be said for that. In the past I've tried talking about other dark things and felt uncomfortable. But during this we met celebrities and travelled on a private jet, the surrealness of these moments make the comedy sit much more comfortably for me. The spine of the story has so much comedy. And the fact that it was 15 years ago allows me to tell people that there's a happy resolution, which I do at the start. I blow the ending because I don't want people sitting there tense. When they know everything's fine, the laughter comes through.

Who were the celebrities?

At the hospital it was Wayne Rooney and the Manchester United team. We nearly met some wrestlers from the WWE too; they were at the same airport when we were flying [to Berlin on a private jet for specialist treatment]. It was surreal, like a mad dream. The reason I've been able to recall these things so well is that my wife, Jemma, kept a scrapbook when we were in hospital and for almost a year, taking pictures and writing, documenting things for her own mindfulness really. That's allowed me to do the show, this family history.

But the geneticists are still in touch with us because Olivia is 15 now. And if, in the future, she decides to have a family, conversations need to be had. So it feels like an ongoing, live bit of family history as well.

Has Olivia seen the show? It's an unusual way for her to find out about her early life isn't it?

She's hasn't seen the show. She understands the condition but she's a very private girl, so I'm very careful. Obviously, I've asked her about me doing this. She's got no problem with me telling the story. But it's interesting. To her, it's almost like it happened to a different person. We're all capable of almost forgetting the things we've been through. It's only because Olivia's was such a seismic thing going off in our life that we've been able to remember most of it.

She sees it from the point of view of how lucky she was. Most kids who have this, some 40% have some neurological problem, like epilepsy, that we seemed to dodge. I had a meeting with a geneticist this week. And she was saying it doesn't seem like you're lucky, but you are. We missed any epilepsy, behavioural things, learning difficulties. And it's a miracle really. That's the thing that makes me want to somehow tell the story in a celebratory way, going: "I can't actually believe we got through it".

Touring the show, night after night, how will you keep yourself emotionally connected to the story, without just turning it into material, yet not put yourself through the psychological wringer?

I don't want to disconnect from it for self-preservation reasons. As soon as you disconnect, you lose the heart of it. Time helps. If we were going through it just now, the audience would want to hug me, not laugh at me.

That said, there are moments. There are some images I show as people are leaving, that I've been watching from the back of the room, that have just caught me a little bit. I could almost touch the Learjet. I can remember the names of the machines, of the beeping, and the medication. As with any trauma, there are little triggers in your DNA forever.

But I've rationalised me telling this by thinking that there are a lot of parents who haven't got this voice, who have maybe gone through something like this or are still going through it. And there's been no-one saying "we can laugh at this". The catharsis is more important than me feeling a bit uncomfortable. There are some funny stories and it's got a high gag-rate. I don't leave audiences stewing in the tension, they come with me on the journey. That's the way I've been able to tell it.

And it's unfortunate but the idea of a "hairy baby" is funny...

It is, especially when a doctor says it to you, a medical man. You don't think they'd have that in their lexicon. You have to find the humour in being told that your baby will look like an XL Bully dog in a couple of weeks as a result of the medication's side effects. You have to find humour in Wayne Rooney being there, private jets and Ronald McDonald featuring in the story and all of these other wild things.

Another thrust of the story is how my dad's quite stoic and emotionally shut off, like a lot of dads and Jemma's dad too. So celebrating how they respond in a trauma and their way of caring, the way that family pulls together around you and how you hold your relationship together as a couple is important as well. Regardless of a sick baby, that could be anything you're going through. That's just life and there's comedy in it. So while the baby is the vehicle for the story, the jokes weren't really a massive sidestep from normal life. There's relatable stuff even if you've never been in a hospital.

Do you feel the experience of writing this show has stretched and improved you as a comic?

Absolutely. Doing two tours in the same year, most people would say: "What are you doing?!" I've got this stand-up show called Stuff, which is more linear stand-up. But I've had a break, now I'm doing this. What's exciting is that when I began writing it, I didn't know if I could pull it off. As a comic, I've been going 12, 13 years and I think sometimes you protect yourself from fear of failure.

But this time I thought 'no, I'm a good enough writer. I'm good at stand-up, I can get an audience to warm to me, I can do this'. And it also felt like a part of my life that is so unique and different. If I hadn't told the story, I wouldn't have been doing due diligence on a bit of family history. So yeah, it is wonderful to challenge yourself and show that the same person who does a routine about the zips of a tent can do a routine about hyperinsulinism. At the end of the day, it's still stand-up. But all of my favourite comics have had those multi-strands in their work. And it's great to have something different to talk about as well.

Does it feel like a continuation of your creative partnership with Jemma? I was listening to your Brew With The Bennetts podcast recently when she said that she's written stand-up but is too scared to perform it. I interviewed another comic recently who said that his wife has written for him for years. Do you think you're nearing that as a couple?

Do you know what? I think you could be right. She's there with me a lot, mentally, on stage. And comedy has always bonded us. We met at university through a love of comedy. This was before students had tellies in their rooms and we used to watch I'm Alan Partridge in the common room, sharing our love of Blackadder and Brass Eye.

We do our podcast together and comedy has helped keep us together. When we were going through this with Olivia, we were listening to Blackadder audiobooks, it was almost our catharsis. And I feel like it's been such an important part of our relationship that it's our coping mechanism. She'd be able to write for me. I might ask her sometimes. She's very funny, very like me really. We seek the joke in many moments.

You're adapting the show for a Radio 4 special. Is that going to be difficult, cramming the story into half an hour?

It's very exciting to have the commission and the story is the story, it's the details we're working out. It's a challenge but there are key moments: pre-diagnosis, diagnosis, cure. These are effectively chapters that help hold the structure together. I think it will work well on radio because everyone's been in hospital. Everyone's had a moment with a relative where things are hanging in the balance. And I think the humour helps people feel more comfortable revisiting that.

When are you recording?

So we're recording in July in Nottingham. Obviously, it's a great place to record because we were in the Queen's Medical Centre there for so long. There's a connection for the story, a little bit of closure. I'm not sure when it's going out.

Speaking of connections, are you prepared for other parents wanting to get in touch to share their children's stories?

I think so. I work quite closely with a charity called The Children's Hyperinsulinism Charity and I went and spoke at a conference where they brought all these parents together. And it's been really interesting to listen to parents of children who've just been diagnosed, or parents who've got children who've still got the condition and weren't cured. Fifteen years later, things have moved on for us. But because it's so rare it's still not being picked up much. In developing countries, a lot of children die because they don't identify it, the money isn't there for testing. Part of my reason for partnering with the charity is genetics, it's part of me. You can't control your DNA.

I've got a bit of a platform, I can talk about it in a funny and unique way and if it helps people, I'm happy to continue that work. It was only three months after we got out with Olivia that they asked us to come and be involved in these groups. And Jemma and I couldn't do it. We were so raw and damaged by the whole experience that we felt we couldn't contribute. All we wanted to do was forget it. We got rid of the cot, we purged. And it was only when we had our second child seven years later, and she's fine, that we thought we should. And that's partly where the show started to percolate, thinking there must be some way in which I could raise awareness of it. So the work's ongoing. And it's only early days for us too really, because with Olivia's genetics, she's going to have to consider whether she's going to have children.

I understand that you and Jemma are writing a book about this too?

Yeah, we've got the pitch together. I'd love to do it, get it out there. Because there are a lot of books about parenting, the struggles and how hard it is. But there's little uplifting from the point of view of being in a hospital. And there needs to be, there needs to be a book on when parenting doesn't go the way you think it's going to go. With a positive outlook. It feels like there's a gap in the market there to me.

And you're developing a sitcom. What can you tell me about that?

I'm writing with Jason Cook, Phil Mealey and Anna Costello, working with Channel X, doing something for the BBC. It's in an early stage but really exciting. Writing a sitcom was an idea that most comics had during lockdown when we were all desperately trying to pull thoughts out of notepads, things scribbled on bus tickets for years. We're at the stage where we're working through pilot scripts but it looks like it's going forward, which is wonderful.

With comedy, I've always wanted to leave a legacy. My favourite comics do that. Peter Kay had Car Share and Phoenix Nights, Harry Hill had TV Burp. I love it when comics take their style of writing and bleed it out into other things. At some point, I want to look back at a body of work that I've done. And a sitcom has always been a part of that. I'll have to juggle a lot to make it but it's a good problem to have.

Is the sitcom's humour in the same vein as your stand-up?

Yeah, it is in my style. It's a warm, mainstream sitcom, I feel there's been a gap there. I grew up on Only Fools And Horses and Blackadder, Fawlty Towers, The Royle Family; sitcoms that every generation could watch together. I feel like we've lost that a little bit over the last few decades, though we've had some, like Ghosts and Gavin & Stacey. But the reaction to Gavin & Stacey on Christmas Day tells you that we're desperate for something that everyone can watch, that unites people. And I feel like laughter and jokes and silliness for the sake of it is something that we've missed. We've had pandemics, a cost of living crisis. People are looking for something to bring them together and I feel that we're offering something like that.

A mainstream sitcom is what I've always wanted to do. It adds to what I'm offering in my stand-up in both tours, which is that relatable, warm and unifying night out really.

Do you see yourself as a stand-up who seeks to entertain as many people in the room as possible?

When you set off as a comic, you don't really know what you want to be. And I'd feel like I'd be being disingenuous if I said that I don't want to be that mass appeal, mainstream act. Even if that label is often wielded as a criticism.

I recall going to see Harry Hill in his early days, I saw Peter Kay on his first tour and I remember the all-enveloping exchange of energy, it was like a dance. They brought everyone together. And for me, there's a purity in that. It was like a magic trick, people wiping their eyes and crying. I remember someone next to me at Harry Hill saying "he's going to have to stop because he's going to kill me", they were in pain, doubled over. So that's something I've always wanted to do, bring people together for those cohesive experiences. It's why I started doing stand-up. I've never been able to play music or sing. So for me it's the only way to create that absolute magic. There's nothing like it.

And finally, you're seen as synonymous with Nottingham. Did you ever consider moving to London for the sake of your career?

I'm different from many comics, in that I started quite late. I was 31 and had a proper job that I gave up to be a comedian. Even now, after doing The Royal Variety Performance, my parents still tell me I could go back to my design job. It was a proper career. But ironically, it also had the creativity and pressure. So I've sort of stepped into the same stress point.

No-one in my family, of any generation, has ever stepped on stage. I'm very risk-averse and it took me a long time to have this self-belief.

But Nottingham, Jemma's family is here, the children go to school here. So I've never felt the need to move. And I don't think it's been detrimental. Not being in London can slow your speed down within the industry, you're less likely to be seen. But the benefit is that you can come in as a dark horse, get really good elsewhere first, then have a much bigger impact. And I also like having a garden.

Scott Bennett: Blood Sugar Baby is at the Soho Theatre, London, for four nights from tonight, then touring England until 6th August. scottbennettcomedy.co.uk