From the magazine James Delingpole

Surprisingly good: Amazon Prime’s Last One Laughing reviewed

Normally in these mixed-comedian TV line-ups, the men painfully outshine the women. Not here

James Delingpole James Delingpole
Quick, easy and presumably cheap to make, Last one Laughing is surprisingly funny and horribly addictive. IMAGE: AMAZON MGM STUDIOS
EXPLORE THE ISSUE 12 April 2025
issue 12 April 2025

‘What will it take to make Richard Ayoade laugh?’ If you find this question about as enticing as ‘Whose turn is it to deworm the cat?’ or ‘What is Keir Starmer’s favourite plant-based ready meal?’ I really don’t blame you. But still if you watch Last One Laughing (Amazon Prime), I think you might change your mind.

The idea of this reality series is to confine ten comedians for six hours in a Big Brother-style enclosure and ban them, on pain of expulsion, from being amused by one another’s jokes. One misplaced smirk gets you a yellow card; the next ill-judged titter and you’re out on your ear. The winner, as per the title, is the last one laughing.

It began life in Japan in 2016 (under the bizarre name Documental) and has since been formatted in 28 countries, proving as big a success for Amazon Prime as such heavy hitters as Clarkson’s Farm and Reacher. Quick, easy and presumably cheap to make – half a day’s filming in a studio and it’s done – it’s surprisingly funny and horribly addictive.

Part of the fun is watching so many over-indulged, lightly woke, painfully ubiquitous TV comics being tortured simultaneously. Laughter is their lifeblood. When they don’t get enough of it, it means they’re dying. Yet here they are, imprisoned in a garish hell zone, where no matter how hard they try to amuse the only reaction they get is apparent boredom, indifference or disdain.

You’d think the eventual winner would inevitably be the one who is the funniest. But this isn’t necessarily the case. At least as important as the attack – i.e., hounding your opponents with gags or physical comedy till they crack – is the defence: either configuring your mind into a state where it is somehow impervious to mirth or, failing that, arranging your features in such a way as to disguise your laughs and smiles as, say, a tormented scowl.

Hence that initial question about Ayoade – a player with strength in depth. I still have no idea how funny he actually is – he made his name as an uptight, geeky character with the glasses in Graham Linehan’s OK-ish follow-up to Father Ted, The IT Crowd – but his awkward, borderline autistic persona is well suited to Last One Laughing. By the time he had even offered his first hint of a smile at anything anyone said most of the other players had already been eliminated. Either he is a very cold fish or so brilliantly clever (he has a law degree from Cambridge) and quick on his feet that he can strategise in milliseconds – or possibly it’s a bit of both.

Half a day’s filming in a studio and it’s done – it’s surprisingly funny and horribly addictive

Normally in these mixed-comedian TV line-ups, the men painfully outshine the women because they’re better show-offs, more competitive and naturally more witty. This particular format, though, is much more of a leveller. While the male players might excel on one-liners, gags and rapier play, the women have the advantage of their feminine wiles, their deceptive appearance of innocence, vulnerability and sweetness, and their ability to get away with murder by twisting the male judge (Jimmy Carr) round their little finger.

Certainly, it seemed to me that there were occasions where the various female comics (including Daisy May Cooper from This Country) had some fairly blatant giggles and smirks generously overlooked by Carr. Then again, as a viewer you want the girls to stay in the mix as long as possible because they keep everything light and silly and frothy. When it’s just boys going head to head it gets suddenly too serious because there are egos at stake and they’re obviously so desperate to win. Also, by far the funniest moment of the series was something a man could never have come up with. It was when Lou Sanders had to whisper something in Rob Beckett’s ear. Other contestants – such as the almost legendary Bob Mortimer – said cleverer or more surreal things. Sanders, though, came up with the killer. ‘Norty torty!’ she said. And Beckett was undone.

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