She may be a talented actress, broadcaster and one half of an acclaimed sketch comedy duo, but Emily Lloyd Saini is arguably at her best when she delivers dynamite solo stand-up sets loaded with explosive jokes.
This ability to light up the stage with her incendiary brand of comedy has enabled the half-Indian British funny woman to deliver unforgettable laughter-filled live sets. She returned to the stage recently, after taking a break for motherhood, and has been part of multiple shows, including the current Ladies Of Laughter tour.
Eastern Eye caught up with the fabulous talent to discuss comedy and how becoming a mum gave her new material. She also spoke about key advice for young girls wanting to pursue comedy, inspirations and revealing too much on stage.
How do you reflect on your comedy journey?
I’m still very much on it. Stand-up has always been my side hustle so I’m constantly falling behind my comedy peers as they become fantastic stand-ups, honestly, they work so hard. I’m glad I found standup, it's taught me so much and I’m grateful that I get to do it.
What has been your most memorable moment?
Rob Delaney hosted the Comedy Central TV gig I did and was really lovely about my set afterwards. It was a brand-new bit I was trying, so was on cloud nine. Then I got a part in his and Sharon Horgans show Catastrophe, which I’m convinced he made happen.
Was it difficult to take a break for motherhood?
The planet kind of decided for me. My baby was born in lockdown one, so there were no gigs to miss. But it took me a while to work up the nerve to come back. Live performance is a muscle, and like with many of my muscles post pandemic, it felt very out of shape.
How does it feel being back on stage again?
Incredible. And it really is a testament to Altaf (Sarwar) who runs Luv Entertainment and Desi Central. The audiences are so up for it that it’s an absolute joy to perform for them.
Has becoming a mum given you new material?
Yes. And it’s cheaper ranting about it to audiences than getting therapy. I wondered about doing it – is it already done? Is it boring to people with no kids? but it’s my life and that’s all I can pull from. And it seems to be going well.
How do you balance being a mum with stand-up comedy, which is predominantly in the evenings?
I’m still finding it. I’m having to learn how to say no. The temptation is to take all the gigs going. I love the practice and hate missing an opportunity. But I promised myself balance. It’s not my only job, so I can’t be swanning off three-four nights a week just yet. Plus, late nights gigging no longer means a lie in the day after.
Where do you predominantly get inspiration from for your jokes?
My life. It usually starts as a shared anecdote with a friend, and if they laugh at the story or observation, I log it and file it away for potential material.
Do you sometimes feel you reveal too much on stage about yourself?
Not so much on stage, as I have a bit of planning with what I will talk about. If anything, when I’m trying stuff out, I can reveal too much about others. That has gotten me into trouble and I’ve learned my lesson. But podcasts, I’ve had to ask them to edit out big chunks of me chatting about personal stuff I definitely don’t want out there. It’s like being at the hairdressers, you get comfy, and they ask questions, and you tell all. We all do that at the hairdressers right?
Has being funny ever helped you in real life?
Being funny is real life. If you make someone laugh, they’re much more likely to like you right? And being liked is always helpful. That’s not to say everyone finds me funny or likes me, but that’s ok, they’re not my people, and not real life.
Who is the funniest person you know in everyday life?
My daughter. But I’m not sure that counts because I’m laughing at her not with her most of the time. So, I’ll say my sketch partner Anna (Leong Brophy), she can make me laugh until I cry with just a look.
What is it like being on an all-female lineup on the Ladies of Laughter tour?
Great fun. Generally, at gigs there’s only one woman on a lineup (#notallgigs), so we don’t get to see each other’s material that often. Also, I’m a big fan of some of the people I’m on the line-ups with.
What advice would you give young girls wanting to pursue comedy?
Just do it and don’t be scared to get it wrong. The worst that can happen is a small room of strangers doesn’t love your set for five minutes. You’ll never have to see them again. And if you’re not sure about performing, then write. Write everything down – because a small thought in Tesco’s could turn into a fantastic joke. But if you don’t write it down, guaranteed you’ll have forgotten it by the time you get home (other supermarkets are available).
Who is your own comedy hero?
Goldie Hawn. I remember watching her growing up and thinking she was such a fearless and hilarious clown. And even now she just gives out such a positive energy (at least, her socials do).
What is the secret of a great stand-up set?
If you find this, tell me. There are so many ingredients that go into a good night. You can have the best set in the world and still not win over a crowd. The host, audience, night of week, time, how drunk that guy in the second row is, all contribute. Also, comedy is relative – what I might find hilarious, you might not and vice versa. So, it’s an impossible question.
Have you ever left anything behind rushing from one event to another?
Doing sketch comedy too means we have so many weird props that we (I) misplace. Once I nearly ruined a whole gig by losing a toilet roll holder and panic rang nearly every stop on the overground to find it. Spoiler, they did not help.
How do you feel being on stage?
Terrified, euphoric, comfortable, excited, and powerful, all at once.
Ladies Of Laughter at Newhampton Arts Centre in Wolverhampton on June 23 and Belgrade Theatre, Coventry on June 24. www.luventertainment.co.uk
The actor’s evolving style from youth to maturity getty images
Aamir Khan embracing vintage looks with classic charmgetty images
Bold and dramatic changes defining Aamir Khan’s careergetty images
From rugged to refined Aamir Khan’s versatile appearancesgetty images
Memorable film moments showcasing Aamir Khan’s unique stylegetty images
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A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
Them performing liveNajmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5