Comic and psychiatrist Benji Waterhouse on plans for comedy on prescription

The UK’s funniest (OK, only) comedian-psychiatrist Dr Benji Waterhouse considers the NHS’s latest plans to prescribe comedy shows for people with depression

Welcome to the Laughter Clinic

Imagine the scene. A man walks into the consulting room, shoulders slumped.

‘And how do you feel?’, the GP asks peering over his glasses - those joke ones attached to a fake nose.

‘I can’t go on like this,'the man mumbles. 

The doctor gravely gestures him to a seat and a whoopee cushion explodes beneath him. He doesn’t even crack a smile. The GP documents this. God, this man’s depressed. 

The medic spends the rest of the appointment doing their tight ten.

‘It’s behind you!’ they say, in full panto voice. 

‘What is?’ the man manages. 

‘Your unresolved childhood trauma!’

Even that bombs. Desperate, the medic reaches over to their bookcase, past the prescribing bible the British National Formulary (BNF) and grabs a copy of the Edinburgh Fringe brochure.  

Decisions, decisions. Perhaps the patient would feel seen with fellow misery-guts Romesh Ranganathan or would he finish him off? Maybe tales of the latest mad shit to happen to Richard Gadd might put his own life into perspective?  The GP plays it safe and writes on a prescription: ‘Two tickets to see Thanyia Moore to be taken on Saturday night. For best effects, go with a friend and mix with alcohol. If no improvement, increase the dose to Bob Mortimer’.

This isn’t my fever dream after a night shift; it’s the latest initiative to get serious about the mental health crisis.

Health professionals have long known the value of comedy to cope. Freud considered it a ‘mature defence’, and the NHS already runs on gallows humour. Along with strong tea. 

Heard the one about the psychiatrist who went into stand-up?

Comedy has certainly helped me and it’s no coincidence that I began stand-up when I started training in psychiatry - some lightness amongst the darkness. 

Being a psychiatrist helps on stage too and if I’m ever heckled, now I know it’s just because they didn’t get hugged enough as a child. Once, when I first started on the open mic circuit someone shouted: ‘you’re the shittest comedian I’ve ever seen!’ and I just thought, ‘but what’s this really about?’

The most brutal put-downs come at work. Last week, an inpatient - furious at not being able to leave the locked ward - yelled: ‘You’re just a middle-class white boy who probably decided to be a shrink after your Mum once forgot to collect you from cricket!’

 I tried lightening the mood and joked, ‘it was actually my au pair’. Luckily, he cracked a smile, it defused the tension and he agreed not to kick my head in. 

Prozac nation (and still miserable)

The rise in so-called ‘social prescribing’ comes from the inconvenient fact that a record 8.7 million people are now on antidepressants, yet depression rates aren’t going down (imagine a malaria vaccination which saw cases skyrocket). SSRIs also come with grim side-effects whereas for comedy these are limited to sore cheeks, loss of bladder control and perhaps most seriously, thinking you could do stand-up. 

Of course, it’s not without danger. NHS patients filling the front row of a Frankie Boyle gig risk leaving with more complexes than they arrived with. Being told ‘that is the kind of haircut you get when the present you want for Christmas is to never have sex again’ - could turn low mood into full-blown body dysmorphia by the interval. 

It will certainly change the stakes for comedians. Before, if we bombed we’d possibly ruin someone’s night. Now, the worry is that we’ll look out to a sea of clinically depressed people all quietly thinking: ‘If this isn’t any good, I’m going to do it tonight.’

And let’s not forget that once lauded treatments - like the lobotomy and electroshock therapy - are later seen as unscientific barbarism which inflicted unthinkable cruelty on patients. One day will our grandkids wince and say: ‘Did you sickos really make depressed people watch Mrs Brown’s Boys?!’ 

The science-y bit

Because no one in mental health listens unless you say something vague about neurotransmitters, the trial’s founder explained that comedy is a ‘cortisol decreaser, dopamine producer, potent releaser of serotonin, endorphins and good neuropeptides’. Which sounds impressive until you remember that ‘decreaser’ isn’t even in the English dictionary. 

As with other social prescriptions like gardening groups and community choirs, I suspect most of the benefit comes from getting out of the house, focussing on something outside of yourself and sharing some human connection. You could probably even ‘prove’ that Morris Dancing works, but you might struggle to find enough participants for the research trial.  

So, is laugher the best medicine?

If I were the Health Secretary - don’t laugh - I’d personally prioritise mental health funding, the lack of psychiatric beds and chronic understaffing. I’d also focus on prevention by addressing poverty, inequality, precarious housing, lack of education and the general absence of hope. 

But given this utopia is about as likely as me winning the Edinburgh Comedy Award for Most Uplifting Show (themes include: schizophrenia, suicide and most disturbingly people who say ‘have you tried cold water swimming?’), some cheap ‘doctor doctor’ jokes might just have to do. 

The final act

 How NHS prescription comedy will work in practice, remains to be seen. I can picture our depressed patient from earlier entering the pharmacy with their prescription only to be told: ‘Sorry Sir, shortages mean we’re now out of Thanyia Moore and Bob Mortimer. But we’ve got plenty of tickets left for some bloke called Benji Waterhouse?’

The patient really is desperate now. Perhaps this could be the beginning of his recovery? At worst it could be his best chance to see an NHS psychiatrist, without the 12-month wait. 

‘He was in the final of So You Think You’re Funny back in 2014. Maybe he could cheer you up?’ the pharmacist says hopefully. 

The man bursts into tears and says: ‘But I am Benji Waterhouse".

• Dr Benji Waterhouse: Maddening is at the Pleasance Courtyard at 5pm during the Fringe. His best-selling book, You Don’t Have to Be Mad to Work Here, is out now, published by Penguin.

Published: 6 Aug 2025