Who the hell does Jeff Dreadnought think he is?

– Half Man Half Biscuit, “Bad Review”

Of the three Brighton Fringe shows I reviewed at the weekend, two have been taken down, for varying and mildly amusing reasons.

The second of these was fair enough. The show was a Work in Progress, and either the Fringe or the artist fucked up by letting us have review tickets.

Though we’ve been allowed to review WIPs in the past, if the artist doesn’t want a half-made show written about, that’s their choice, and the artist in question has been perfectly civil and reasonable in their communication.

But the first one rankles a bit.

As I wrote in my newsletter earlier this week, I’m back to reviewing shows that might not be good, after a few years of being lucky enough to focus on seeing things I at least have an inkling I’ll enjoy.

Putting my own creative stuff out there means I try to approach reviewing by being sympathetic to anyone trying to do anything.

I know what a slog it is to get any artistic zeppelin off the ground, how any mild flicker of wind can send everything into the valley of ooops, and how tempting it is to simply give up and watch Dawson’s Creek in one’s pants all day instead.

I’m also aware things have changed. Only about three people can make a living from criticism these days, and Jay Rayner’s eaten two of them.

The other issue is a lot of arts reviews have been consumed into the mulch of modern marketing, so when someone says something you did was bad, in print, it is more of a shock.

In the olden days, critics – straight white men, in the main, as with many things – presented themself as hard-bitten iconoclasts.

The infamous late seventies job advert for NME writers called for “hip young gunslingers”, which is funny when you realise one of the successful candidates was Julie Burchill.

Righteous snark aside, I do still feel there needs to be a place in the cultural ecosystem for considered criticism.

There is so much content, everywhere, all the time. Paying people to thoughtfully consider what is worth one’s attention still feels useful in a world in which the last Google punter comedy review I read gave the show one star because the staff didn’t clear the plates away quickly enough.

And I think reviews stand up on their own terms, especially if done well. [1]

A good, well-written book or film review is a pleasure, even if you never get the chance or the time to read or see the thing.

I should also say, I like writing reviews, and always take care to be as fair and as professional as possible.

On to the removed article, then. Basically, someone complained via a public comment that I knew one of the people on the bill of the show I was reviewing.

Specifically, they asked if I thought it was “ethical” for me to be writing it considering my “professional and personal relationship with one of the acts”.

They went on to say it was “irresponsible” of me to post a review when I was “close” to one of the comedians, implying that I gave this comedian an easier ride than the others because we hang out.

This is somewhat libellous. The comedian they are referring to is certainly a good friend of mine, and we sing songs together, sometimes in fox masks.

But professional and personal relationship? That makes it sound like we’re banging or making money together.

And as far as I can remember, neither of these things are true.

I’m as suspicious as anyone when, say, Boris Johnson’s sister gets to review Boris Johnson’s book for the Standard, or when the Guardian’s crusading anti-poverty campaigner is married to one of the Tory ministers whose job is to make sure as many poor people die as possible.

It’s why I don’t miss news journalism; for the main players, it was very much a game.

When Max Gogarty was given a travel column for the Guardian aged 19, despite sharing ahem a surname with an established Guardian travel writer, I laughed and rolled my eyes along with everyone else.

But even in my little worlds, over the twenty years I’ve been reviewing, there is a great deal of overlapping between musicians, artists, comedians, writers, producers, and hangers-on.

Of the past five shows I’ve watched, not all of which I’ve written up, I’ve known two of the acts, a partner of one of the acts, and the costume designer of another.

And of course my reviews will be subjective, as all humans experience life differently. But I don’t give people I know an easier ride, and to imply that I ever have is dubious at best.

Also, what could it possibly achieve? It’s not like I’m in this for the fame and fortune. And certainly not the money.

The complainer, who I shan’t name, says they have worked with all the comedians on the lineup, and considers them friends.

One presumes they have nothing to do with the night itself, though presumably my giving bad reviews of the other acts was the reason they wanted it removed.

My comedian friend was mortified. Her main worry was that people on the local circuit would think that she asked me to write it, and to write it up positively at that.

This isn’t true – reviewing the show was a last minute decision, because I had a friend down and the name implied a theme that I thought would be up our ideological alley.

I worked really hard on that review, which I ended up giving two stars. I accentuated the positive of each act, and of the host, and even when one of them make a xenophobic comment interacting with a Polish audience member, I gave them the benefit of the doubt, and didn’t include it.

If my friend had been shit and the other three were brilliant, I’d have said so.

The site I wrote for has a policy that people can’t write about people they know, something I didn’t know at the time of posting. This, I am told, is to stop people signing up to give their friends and lovers five stars. I gave this show two stars, and without said person on the bill, it would barely have scraped one .

I will continue writing for the site, but I’m curious where the line is, as there are bound to be other people I know on bills I turn up to.

Ah well. I was an extra in a short film yesterday, sitting in a library reacting with horror to a racist poetry recital.

Sat next to me was comedian’s anti-comedian Mark Silcox, who was making a very funny cameo appearance.

I told him about my review dilemma, and here’s how the conversation went…

Mark: “If it was two star give it two star.”

Me: “it’s subjective I guess”

Mark: “Not subjective. You are professional.”

Me: “I mean, I do try…”

Mark (cutting across me): “First comedy gig I did, one star. I didn’t care. Then two star, then gradually four star. I am always happy.”

Be more Mark.

[1] LRB the gold standard for me. Mine are quite good too. The key is making criticism as inclusive and diverse as possible, not removing it entirely and replacing it with marketing. Unless marketing means becoming more like Mark Silcox.