Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle Page

"Anyway," he said, checking his watch. "That’s eighteen minutes on pears. Let’s do some material about the collapse of the liberal elite."

Back on stage, Stewart stood up, brushed off his suit, and looked directly into the lens. He dismantled the joke he had just told, explaining why it wasn't funny, why the audience’s laughter was "the wrong kind of laughter," and how the very concept of a television comedy vehicle was a hollow vessel for the death of British culture. Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle

In the edit suite, the producer watched the monitors. "He’s been on the floor for six minutes," she whispered. "The audience looks like they’re undergoing a medical trial." "Anyway," he said, checking his watch

"Perfect," the director replied. "Cut to a close-up of a middle-aged man in the third row looking slightly confused. That’s the 'Vehicle' brand." He dismantled the joke he had just told,

The red light of the camera glowed like a judgmental eye. Stewart Lee stood center stage, his posture slumped in a way that suggested he was physically burdened by the sheer existence of his audience.