Rosie Jones Looks Back: From Childhood Smiles to Standup Stages
Comedian Rosie Jones, born in 1990 in Bridlington, East Yorkshire, has carved a unique path in the entertainment world. With a career spanning television research on shows like 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown to live comedy performances on Live at the Apollo and The Last Leg, she also authors children's books and hosts series such as Out of Order on Comedy Central. In a reflective interview, Jones delves into her early years, the evolution of her comedy, and the societal challenges facing disabled individuals today.
Early Years and Educational Foundations
Jones recalls a childhood marked by joy and resilience. "I was a smiley, happy child," she says, noting that cerebral palsy has been a constant since birth. At three, she attended a disabled nursery, but a teacher's intervention led her to a mainstream school, funded under the Disability Discrimination Act of 1995. "If I'd been born 10 years earlier, I probably would have gone to that disabled school, which would have led to fewer opportunities," Jones reflects. With a teacher's aide and a laptop for writing, she thrived academically, but laments the current lack of funding for disabled students. "It breaks my heart to think of the disabled people starting school today. The funding they need to succeed simply isn't there any more."
The Birth of a Comedic Voice
Humor became Jones's coping mechanism early on. "Being disabled, I couldn't walk or talk properly, but I realised that if I made a funny face or said something silly, getting laughter from people was all I needed," she explains. Her family played a key role, with her mother and brother fostering a joke-filled environment. Jones honed her skills by setting up punchlines for others, avoiding the spotlight due to unwanted attention. This changed during her postgraduate diploma in comedy writing at the National Film and Television School, where mentor Bill Dare encouraged her to try standup. "He looked at me and said, 'You're a standup. Go and try standup comedy.' I thought, 'Well, now I've got to do it,'" she recalls.
Overcoming Internalised Ableism
Jones's journey into standup coincided with a growing awareness of internalised ableism. "I became more aware of how internalised ableism had shaped me and my perception of who I could become," she says. She began using humor as a defence mechanism, with lines like, "Oh, I'm not disabled, I'm drunk," which she had unknowingly workshopped in pubs for years. The early years were grueling, balancing TV work, nightly gigs, and coursework. "I barely slept," she admits, but emphasizes the value of perseverance. "You literally need to go to Reading on a Wednesday night, perform to four people who fucking hate you, cry on the train home and be £40 out of pocket."
Fame, Representation, and Challenges
For Jones, fame was never the goal; standup is "just a hobby that got out of hand." However, it has given her a platform to advocate for disability representation. "We live in a world where disabled people are often left out of the conversation – even conversations about disability," she notes. Seeing independent disabled adults on TV would have been transformative in her youth. Yet, fame brings downsides, including daily online abuse due to her liberal politics and anxiety in public spaces. "Sometimes people want to take photos, but a lot of people hug or kiss me. I'm sure it comes with good intentions, but I often have to say, 'You know what, can you put me down, please?'"
Reflections on Mobility Aids and Self-Acceptance
Jones has a complex relationship with mobility aids, describing it as a "love-hate – emphasis on hate" dynamic. In childhood, they were practical tools, but over time, they became negative symbols. "If they're offered to me now, I think, 'I can walk, so why would I use an aid when that's a physical embodiment of disability?'" she says. Through therapy, she is working to shed this internalised ableism, inspired by her younger self. "When I see how happily I'm using my rollator at the age of three, I realise that 35-year-old Rosie could learn a lot from her younger self."
Rosie Jones's story is a testament to resilience, humor, and the ongoing fight for inclusivity in comedy and beyond.
