Better the devil you don’t know
After twenty years of watching one of the country’s most erudite, wellloved and downright funny comedians, Simon Evans’s fans could be excused for thinking they know who is and what he’s about. Dry, teasingly non-PC and openly baffled by much of modern life, not to say his own family, Evans has created a strongly defined on-stage persona.
But almost incredible revelations about his true identity left him reeling – and have made The Work of the Devil, by far his most memorable, eye-opening and thought-provoking work to date. It’s also his most engaging, audiences reporting that tears of laughter mingled at the end with stronger currents of emotion.
“It’s an unusual show for me in that regard,” he says. “Because the message of the show – almost beyond my conscious control – has become one that is genuinely heartwarming and uplifting, rather than just another weary sigh at society’s collapsing values and so on. And honestly, I couldn’t be happier. The subject matter, the show itself and audience reaction to it – it’s no exaggeration to say that it had a positive effect on my mental health, just performing it every night.”
It’s a very different kind of vibe to his last show, Genius 2.0.
“It starts in a similar vein: scrutinising identity politics and resurgent nationalism, subjecting them to my usual piggy-eyed scrutiny. But then we move through a shift of perspective as I approach the Big Reveal: the news I received that throws literally everything I’ve said in the show – and arguably as a comedian, ever – into a dramatic new light.”
The title of the show – The Work of the Devil, comes from Evans’ comedic hero, Douglas Adams.
“It’s from one of his unpublished, unfinished passages for Dirk Gently – a theory about the three different stages of progress in everyone’s life. Firstly, there’s what existed before you were born and until the age of about 12 or 13: with me, I grew up accepting that television, for instance, simply existed. Then there are things invented in our late teens and 20s which are exciting innovations that offer us opportunities our parents never knew. For me, again, computers, digital watches, and arguably sandwich toasters. And then there are things which arrive from our mid30s onwards, by which point we can no longer keep up with change and which we therefore denounce as the work of the Devil.”
Adams intended the theory to relate to technology, but Evans wonders if it is becoming relevant to our relationship with political and social change too now. Everything from changing family structures to geo-political transformations are creating a world that Evans initially feels requires a healthy dose of his robust common sense. But then comes the big surprise.
Tempting though it is to drop clues, the show will be that much more rewarding for those who have no idea what is coming. But satisfyingly, it does follow on from some of the loose ends that were left at the end of the last show.
“Part of the inspiration for Genius 2.0 was my sense that my own intelligence, memory, focus, reaction times and so on were all in steep decline, and at a younger age than I would suggest that was inevitable. I did routines about it that got laughs of recognition, but at the back of my mind I had a niggling doubt that this was beyond normal deterioration. It was my investigation into that which yielded the new information which birthed this show.”
The joy of any Simon Evans show is to watch a comic at the peak of his powers dissecting big ideas and exploring complex notions while finding great jokes within it all. The Work of the Devil, however, delivers all that – plus the most incredible true story.