Back around 1990 some British producers started hiring American comics for shows in England at the Queen’s Theater (Theatre?) in London. Every two weeks they’d pick three American comics and put them on the bill with three English comics. I did it and loved it, and who wouldn’t? You fly first class, stay in a nice hotel, and get well paid for doing your stuff in a grand hall. And there was plenty of down time to see the “Playing Fields of Eton,” investigate the difference between ale and lager, and try to convince young, distaff comedy fans that there was, indeed, a very special relationship between Britain and America.
The audiences were great, large, and receptive, and there was no problem “translating” your act. Most comics work with larger themes–dating, parents, drinking, et cetera–and, anyway, any performer worth a plug shilling ought to be able to entertain people who speak the same language, even if they call a bar a pub.
