Hannah's not afraid to be niche.

Refined figures like you and I gravitate towards unique artistry. Speaking of, Hannah Platt’s busy developing her second hour of comedy. She says that this time, she’s really doing it for herself, and of course, the select group of people who are destined to relate to it most strongly.

And yet, I don’t want to paint for you a picture of her speaking to a nearly empty bar, though there’s no shame in such a situation. It’s just that her debut show, Defence Mechanism, received a slew of award nominations and encouraging interest from various widely read media outlets. And she’s given the journos plenty to discuss, as she’s thinking of starting a cult. Yeah, more on that later.

She even buttered me up by initiating a little chat about The Fall. And if you think I mean the season, you’ve got some backreading to do, as I’m talking about the band with a cult following.

Okay, nearly interview time.

I wouldn’t advise anyone to say the word “cult” too much in quick succession, but she told me the theme really does come up a lot in what is currently her mysterious work-in-progress…

What’s your story? Can you tell me about how you got started in comedy?

My first gig was in Liverpool, where I grew up. I’d wanted to do it for ages, but was very self-conscious. I thought, “What’s going to happen is, I’m going to get up on stage, and no one’s going to laugh at anything I say.” I thought everyone would stand up in unison and go, “That is insane, and you aren’t funny, please leave.” *Dan laughed*

I was very depressed, classic, and I was sleeping on a friend’s couch. She happened to run an open mic night, and I reckon she rallied all our friends around, telling them I was in a bad way, and that they all needed to see me perform, and laugh at all my jokes. I think that lured me into a false sense of security.

I didn’t start regularly performing until I moved to Manchester 8 years ago. That’s when I started performing at XS Malarkey and other more alternative gigs.

Oh, really? I’ve always thought of Manchester as having more of a club comedy scene.

It’s got a really good mix. When I just started, I had a go at every type of comedy, because you don’t know what kind of comedian you are when you first start. At club gigs, I’d still talk about the things I talk about now, like being depressed and queer, or whatever.

Doing those sorts of gigs makes you funnier, I reckon, because you’ve got the challenge of making them laugh about something they maybe can’t relate to. But you can make them laugh about it; if you’re funny, you’re funny.

Plus, people are more open to talking about mental health now than they used to be, and it’s just a case of relating your experiences back to things that everyone can understand. I still say the same things I would in my solo shows. I don’t switch up my outlook, but maybe the topics.

For example, I’m not that interested in talking about dating in my solo shows, but in a comedy club, it feels like an easier, more relatable topic. But it’s my take on it.

Your jokes have been described as “punchy” before, *Hannah laughed*, and I know you’ve written jokes for The News Quiz & The Now Show on Radio 4. How do you write punchy jokes and a punchy show?

It depends on what you take “punchy” to mean. I take it mean lots of gags, lots of jokes. Unless it just means I’m violent, and I’ve accepted a compliment I wasn’t given. *We laughed*, but again, it comes from trying to survive in a club environment.

It definitely can mean that, but I suppose it could also mean that the jokes are a cut above the rest, and they hit you like being punched.

Those might be the ones that stick in people’s heads, but you’ve got to have others to carry the narrative along. Otherwise, it becomes relentless one-liners. If I’ve got an hour, I want there to be a story — there’s got to be lulls.

*Trying to relate* — it definitely can be tiring when it’s relentless.

*She laughed* I don’t want to lower everyone’s expectations.

I do think there have to be lulls, but I’ve not written lulls into my shows. But…

“When I go and see someone, I like to get a sense of them as a rounded person, rather than a joke machine.”

I want to know their point of view, so that’s how I write as well.

It makes the jokes funnier. That’s why your friends are the funniest people you know. Because you have all the context about them. So, you tell the audience about yourself, and then say things that it would be funny for someone like you to say.

I like to write things that nobody else could say, or that make the most sense coming from me.

Why did you want to become a comedian? I read that you’ve been going to the Edinburgh Fringe festival as a punter1 every year since 2018.

I have, except last year was the first time I didn’t go in any capacity. It feels different now that I do comedy. People can get a little bit caught up in the fairytale of the Fringe, and it can drive you a little bit insane. When I go, I don’t like all the pressure there is to have an amazing time and get certain reviews. It shouldn’t be about that.

You should do the Fringe because you love it, instead of thinking you have to have an hour show ready for the festival, that you’ve got to go, and get certain reviews. I don’t enjoy that side of it. I love it, but it was nice to have a small break from it. But other than last year, I was going to the festival well before I started comedy.

I suppose when you go just to watch, there’s none of the pressure.

Yeah! And bringing a show can make you lose a bit of perspective. Most of my friends aren’t comedians, and if you told them you got a 3-star review, they’d say, “Oh my god, that’s amazing!” Whereas to a comedian, that’s almost like a kick in the face.

A comedian would be like, “Oh no! I can’t put it on my poster now.” I don’t want to be that kind of personality, or focus on that. I’ve just started doing work-in-progress shows, and I’m really loving it. I’m loving it because I’m having fun with it. I don’t want to do it in case such-and-such a person writes a good review.

I don’t think I could write a bad review [not a publicised one, anyhow].

Yeah! I don’t get why anyone does. Just don’t write it, pretend you haven’t seen it.

I get writing a bad review if it’s a huge arena comic — someone really famous. If they’re charging £50 for a ticket, and it’s really bad, an honest review might be in the public’s interest. When it’s someone just trying their best in the room above a pub, it seems mean to go, “This is sh*t, actually.” *Dan laughed*

A moment ago, you mentioned your work-in-progress dates. I’ve looked at the venue websites, and there are no clues as to the theme.

*She laughed* You have to register for the festival so early, [Leicester Comedy Festival], that I worried about picking a title, only to change my mind and make it about something else. But it has stayed on the theme of cults.

In my head, if life doesn’t work out, and things aren’t working as I wanted them to, I’ve always got the option of joining a cult as a backup plan. *Dan laughed* I’m reassessing my life, and considering if I’m really a failure, or if that’s what the culture wants you to feel, so that you’re constantly striving for somebody else’s benefit.

I’m thinking, is it time now? Is this the time to join a cult? Or… maybe what I’m doing is trying to start my own little cult in a way. I’m never going to be a mainstream comedian; when you’re trying to talk about niche things, and you’re trying to cultivate a little audience of people who get it, that feels cult-y in itself.

You sounded like John Cooper Clarke then, and I wrote a question about him somewhere. Are you a fan?

*She laughed* I love him! That’s lovely.

He’s not the reason I moved to Manchester, but I love the scene he was/is a part of. For example, I also really like the band The Fall, and this idea of acts from other artforms supporting bands on tour — figures like him and Ted Chippington. The DIY ethos, and the arts being intertwined, feels really cool to me.

Music to my ears. I was re-watching a documentary recently about the band The Nightingales, presented by Stewart Lee, and Ted Chippington had his own little segment. I love The Fall, too.

They’re my favourite band.

Really?!

I went to see them so much when I was a teenager. I was about 14 when I started going, and not only would I be one of the only female members of the audience, I’d be the only person under-40. *We laughed* It was lots of men in leather jackets with a pint going, “Yeah, this is great, this.”

I have thought about that, how male the fanbase is, on the whole. But of course, Mark’s various wives were in the band over the years.

When I got into them, Eleni Poulou was the woman in the band. I saw them tour the Imperial Wax Solvent album, and a few subsequent tours up until he passed on.

That’s a great album. How did you come across the band in the first place?

Oh, just by being a little weird kid on the internet, unsupervised on the big PC in the spare room. *We laughed* Stewart Lee, Robin Ince and Josie Long, and all these cool alternative comedians would talk about bands like that, and about weird artists and films. So, it all informed itself. And they might have a song as their intro music to a Fringe show, and I’d try to remember one lyric to go away and Google.

I think it’s about having a taste for the off-kilter. Do you see what you do as off-kilter?

That’s kind of what the show I’m writing is about. I did my first show in 2024 and then had a year off. I don’t try to write for an audience, but I did think about how I wanted to present myself for the first time. You are very aware of that with a debut.

It’s odd because when you’re getting reviewed, suddenly, people are telling the world what you’re like. It was a big deal to make a debut. I don’t know why I was surprised when it wasn’t a big take-off thing. I was imagining my auntie going to see it, and thinking she’d love it too. Y’know, something for all the family.

“But of course it’s going to be for a select group of people, because everything I like is for a select group of people.”

Writing this show is also me understanding that about myself, and liking that about myself. I’d rather be one person’s favourite comedian than have 2,000 people thinking I’m alright.

I had one of my friends come and see the show in Bristol, and all of his tastes are very niche, and he’s very well read, and knows everything about directors no one’s ever heard of. And we’ll go to independent cinemas, and he’ll recommend films that are impossible to see. Any time he laughed at one of my references, part of me worried that the show’s too niche, but I want to cultivate that. I want to have in-jokes that not everyone will get.

I’ve never tried to make myself understandable and palatable in real life, because I don’t know how to do that, so why would I suddenly write a great take-down of the Brooklyn Beckham thing that’s going on right now? *Dan laughed*

I’d rather write something about Tim Curry. There’s too much Tim Curry in the show. I’ve suddenly become a really big fan. He’s in a lot of cult films. I saw that when I was way too young, my Nan showed me that when I was about 5-years-old. *Dan laughed* She shouldn’t have done that, but I think it’s had a lasting effect.

What are you grateful for?

I’m grateful that the knockbacks I’ve had haven’t stopped me from doing comedy. I’m especially loving doing this current show. I’m really enjoying it. I won’t stop doing this until it stops being fun, and it’s nice that I’ve reached that point in my own head. That’s really what the new show is about — this is for me, and if you like it, grand, and if you don’t, oh well! There are plenty of other things out there for you.

Maybe I can be a bit aggressive on stage, but I’m not angry about people at anyone for not getting it or making fun of them for not understanding it. Maybe if they liked all the things we’ve talked about, and say they were a big Robin Ince fan, then I might be like, “Well, what’s wrong with me?!” But other than that, I’m happy an audience member has taken a punt on seeing me, even if it hasn’t worked out.

With freewheeling artists, they like to mess around and change things up. You go and see them knowing that they might put you on the back foot by experimenting in a new way. But you keep going even if some gigs worked for you more than others… Like, if the Fall put out a more commercial album, you could be sure the next one would be completely unlistenable.2

It’s the cult of personality, isn’t it? You’d go and see The Fall because you’re interested in Mark E Smith as a figure, and you’re interested in what they’ve got to say. It’s the same with the comedians that I go and see, I’ll go regardless of whether or not I’m interested in what their new show is about. I’m interested in them as a person. So, I would like to be one of those comics. Subconsciously, I’ve maybe thought that the people who are interested in cults are probably weirdos.

Your first show is when you find out who likes you, and I’m made up that it’s the neurodivergent people, and the people who wear ear defenders because they don’t want to be outside. Because they’ve gone, “I really don’t want to be outside. Alright, fine, I’ll go and see that.” *Dan laughed* I’m very flattered!

Were you funny at school?

Oh, God, not in the way a class clown would be. They’d be making everyone laugh, and me and my friend would be sat at the back taking the piss out of them. I was funny with the people I got on with. Maybe it’s similar now. It’s never going to be mainstream.

You used quite colourful vocabulary in the interviews I’ve read. Do you like to read?

I do, yeah, I studied English at university, and I enjoy the writing process. Someone once said that comedians are either a writer or a performer, and they learn to do the other one. When I knew I wanted to be a comedian but was too scared to perform, I thought, “Maybe I’ll find a girl who does drama at university, and she can perform what I’ve written.”

“It took me a while to get used to being in front of people. But in the end, that discomfort helped me as a writer, because I realised whatever I write has to be the best it can be if I’m going to have to say it publicly.”

I’ve got to really believe it’s funny.

You provide enjoyment for audiences by making them laugh. Do you also feel that you have something to say that audiences need to hear?

I’ve been writing a lot at the minute about trying to find a community.

You do write because you want people to relate to the jokes, but also, I get validation out of relating to other people’s jokes. We often think we’re the only person who’s ever had a certain observation about life, so when you say what you’ve been thinking on stage and get the laughter of recognition, it’s a lovely feeling.

You can create communities that way. Sometimes I’ll acknowledge that nobody might get what I’m about to say, and then if only 5-people do get it, and feel exactly the same about a certain issue, that’s when you go, “Well, this [doing stand-up] is brilliant.” That’s me building my cult.

I loved what you said to Chortle about comedy making you feel unashamed.

Thank you, it’s a cliche for MCs to say, “The more love you give to the comedians, the funnier they’ll be,” but it’s really true, even though it feels like it shouldn’t be, and it does make you open up, and you do become unashamed. It’s a great feeling. It makes you feel like you can properly be yourself when you’re received well.

Excellent, what can we expect from you for the rest of 2026?

Like I say, I’m really enjoying working on my new show, and I’m getting closer to being the comedian that I want to be. It feels really natural, and I’m enjoying saying what I have to say. I’m performing my work-in-progress at Leicester Comedy Festival on February 21st, March 1st at the Queer Comedy Club in London, March 8th at Squarehole in Sheffield, and March 17th at Glasgow Comedy Festival.

It’s important to acknowledge that for which we’re lucky. I think we got on marvellously, like two quacking ducks in a world full of geese, far removed from the disturbances of noisy machinery, and being fed posh bread that was still fresh… If that means anything to you. Some nutty middle-class lady on the loose even put raspberry jam on for us without asking. Erm, consent?? Scranned the lot, though, didn’t we?3

Why not join her cult on Instagram? Tickets for her work-in-progress dates are linked above.