At a typical comedy night, you might expect awkward dating stories or political satire. In Cambridge, you’re more likely to hear a ten-minute set about the constant e, an improvised lab tour, or rock-guitar music that’s literally about rocks and minerals. After a chance encounter, I stumbled into the world of science comedy, a niche but lively community that has thrived for over a decade in this proudly nerdy university city.
For most of these scientists-turned-performers, a career in comedy wasn’t always in the plan. Helen Wilkes, who goes by Dr Helen on stage, was deep in her PhD on DNA replication when she first signed up for a training session with science comedy group The Variables. “They advertised it through the University, as part of the researcher training programme in transferable skills,” she recounted. “Stand-up comedy to make your science talks more entertaining.”
Comedy quickly became more than simply a way of improving her presentation skills, though – much to her surprise, Helen discovered she loved it. The adrenaline rush of stepping onto a stage and connecting with a roomful of strangers kept her coming back. Nine years later, what began as a hobby has become her career. She now works freelance as a science comedian and communicator, and co-runs The Variables. Still, she noted that most performers in her troupe remain full-time academics and do comedy on the side.
“They’re an audience full of people who are willing to just be nerdy and have a nice time”
Adjacent to science stand-up, improvised theatre takes the spontaneity even further. Joonatan Laulainen was also pursuing his PhD when he joined an improv workshop at the NanoDTC, a doctoral training centre for nanoscience. The programme was run by James Dolan, who had himself started a science improv group while doing research in Chicago – the city credited as the birthplace of modern improv. The workshop turned out to be catalytic; afterwards, James, Joonatan and several other participants founded Cambridge University Science Improv.
Their show, Spontaneous Reactions, was loosely structured but entirely unscripted. After warming up the audience with improv games on scientific topics, they would invite a guest speaker to give a serious science talk. The cast would then turn the lecture into a dramatic or comedic performance. Joonatan was especially drawn to the off-the-cuff format of improv. “You can play on the whimsical nature of science,” he enthused. “Some things are a bit bizarre and crazy, but interesting, right? Improv allows you to really explore it.”
But why does science comedy exist at all? For scientists, it is a way to come together and celebrate their common experiences and shared geeky sense of humour. “They’re an audience full of people who are willing to just be nerdy and have a nice time,” Helen explained. Being based in Cambridge has made it easier to find this community, and similar science comedy scenes exist in Oxford, London and Bristol.
“Stand-up builds confidence, presence, posture and cadence, all skills that are vital in an academic career”
Yet, when Helen surveys her audience (in true scientific fashion), she finds that a large proportion are not scientists at all. For them, she sees her comedy as a way of breaking down the barriers around academia, showing that science doesn’t have to be distant and inaccessible. Even when tackling technical topics, she believes “there’s a way to build into it so the audience comes with you. It just takes a bit of practice.”
James, who came to Cambridge as a research fellow in science communication, offered both a performer’s and a researcher’s perspective. While there are few controlled studies on humour in science communication, the topic has nonetheless been widely discussed. One concern is that jokes can leave some audience members behind: if the punchline hinges on knowing the science, it could unthinkingly drive a wedge between people in the room. For that reason, James is cautious about describing science comedy and improv purely as science communication. “It’s difficult to draw broad conclusions because it really depends on how it’s delivered, what the content is, maybe even what the jokes are.”
Even if audience members don’t leave with new scientific knowledge, he believes that these performances still play an important role in humanising scientists. “You don’t just see them through the lens of their occupation,” he explained. “You see them as someone who has thoughts, feelings, a sense of humour – someone who can be silly on stage.” Scientists, he added, often feel pressure to present a public persona that is highly authoritative, and comedy can help soften that image.
“It is about finding humour and community in a profession too often viewed as dense and serious”
While audiences love watching science comedians perform, the benefits go both ways. Stand-up builds confidence, presence, posture and cadence, all skills that are vital in a research presentation and in an academic career more generally. Helen has found these skills useful in her role as an undergraduate demonstrator in the University: “Performing to a room of 90 to 100 people makes teaching a room of 10 way less intimidating.”
Improv offers a slightly different set of skills. “It’s really good at teaching you how to be in the moment and listen to only what’s there, and to work with that,” Joonatan described, “and I think that’s invaluable to all discourse.” Throughout his time at CUSI, he saw members develop the ability to engage in discussions in intellectually interesting ways, whatever the topic. Because of its spontaneous nature, performers also become comfortable with the idea of failure and learn to laugh it off.
As James highlights, the benefits of improv have been formally studied. In medical education, for example, researchers have identified three transferable skills that improv nurtures: attunement (the ability to listen carefully and let others finish rather than planning your own response); affirmation (acknowledging and valuing what someone has said); and advancement (building on others’ contributions). The well-known improv principle of ‘yes, and’ exemplifies these values.
It is no surprise, then, that most of the founding members of CUSI now work in public-facing roles, and many are entrepreneurs. “Everybody from that group has a certain leisurely confidence. I don’t think that was true for all of us in the beginning,” Joonatan reflected. He himself founded Altrove, a startup using computation and AI to discover new materials. Pitching ideas in the startup world, he muses, feels just like telling a story in improv.
The science comedy scene still faces challenges. There is constant turnover as students graduate and academics move out of Cambridge. In the past few years, the pandemic has disrupted live performances, and recovery has been gradual. But the culture persists, sustained by a steady stream of students and researchers wanting to step outside their comfort zones. The Variables still runs training sessions for new comedians, and performs three to four times a year, with their upcoming show on 24/3 promising to “test the theory that the universe does have a sense of humour”.
Science comedy is not just about explaining research or making jokes; it is about finding humour and community in a profession too often viewed as dense and serious. And in a city where groundbreaking discoveries are made every day, it turns out there is also space to laugh at them.