Sara Pascoe looks back: 'I often tell myself that the funnier I look the more ugly I look'

Born in Dagenham in 1981 and raised in Romford, Sara Pascoe is one of the UK's leading stand-up comedians. Known for weaving whimsical comedies into routines about science and politics, she started on the comedy circuit in 2007 and was nominated for the Edinburgh Prize in 2014's 10 Cats, and starred in her own series , Last Woman on Earth, in 2020. She has written two books, 2016's Animal: The Autobiography of a Female Body, and Sex Power Money, in 2019. Pascoe's new live show, Success Story, is on tour from November to 2023.

This is a photo of my first time on stage, playing Glinda the Good Witch in The Wiz. Behind me is Sophie, another member of the theater group. There was a lot of backstage talk about weight, and as a result, I remember thinking I looked fat, which is really tragic. Other than that, I was just thrilled to get my hands on some frosty lipstick - it was a Rimmel classic from the 90s. We were playing in a small theater, but we slathered on the foundation anyway orange and thick eyeliner so people in the back can see our facial features; like we were Laurence Olivier or something.

Playing for Theater Box in Romford was essential for me, even if it started as a punishment from my mother. A few weeks before I arrived she was out for the night and I ended up throwing this house party - loads of kids came in and ransacked the place. Mom came home the next morning, looked at the trash bags full of empty bottles, measured the lingering smell of cigarettes, and figured out what had happened. There was a woman who ran a theater group and lived down the road, so Mom decided banishing me from performing would be an adequate form of retaliation and would keep me off the streets. Unfortunately, this backfired horribly on me by triggering my juggernaut of ego. I thought, "I'm going to be an actor now!"

Before I joined this group, I didn't have any good friends. Everyone in my school year thought I was weird - I was the kind of girl who asked teachers if she could organize poetry assemblies. When I was in the drama group, I was seen as a quirky, fun person, rather than a weird kid with bad coaches. It also helped the people running it to act like being on stage was an achievable future profession. Their encouragement obviously paid off – CBBC's Andy Day was in the band, and Russell Tovey ran in the same circles. Even though we were from Romford and working class, we were told anything was possible.

At that time fame started playing in my mind. My dad had been in a band - 70s pop band Flintlock - but he didn't like it and quit after a few years. When I told him I was going to be famous, he was really against the idea. Not like Billy Elliot – he never said I couldn't – but because he was a good musician, he was afraid that I would do a TV talent show. He desperately wanted me not to become famous for fame and wanted me to learn a real trade. Unfortunately, I didn't pay attention: I auditioned for Michael Barrymore's TV show, My Kind of People, which was set in a mall. I got there, did a short interview with Barrymore, started performing a song, then forgot the lyrics, so I just cried. To try to encourage me, the public joined me. I was so ashamed of what happened and didn't talk about it for a very long time. But when I was offered to enter the All Together Now singing competition a few years ago, I took the opportunity to make amends. Gemma Collins and a few sportsmen were also competing; my agent said, "I think you're past that stage." I said, "I don't think you understand, I have to do this for my teenage years!" Imagine if I can sing! So I did: I got on stage, I had a terrible time, I came in last, and Geri Halliwell said I was bad at singing. Suddenly I was back with Barrymore!

No one saw my acting career coming. My mom loves telling people how unfunny I grew up and how surprised she was that this became my career. I kind of despised comedy too. In college, if you asked me if I liked stand-up, I would say: why is everyone laughing? Have you seen the world? I took myself far too seriously and decided that I could only continue acting if I did the kind of plays that would help improve people's lives: political theatre, Brechtian agitation, stuff that make you think and maybe save the environment too. In the end, I realized that it's much easier to make people listen if you try to make them laugh too.