On February 13th, the up-and-coming comic performed at The Crescent in York, a community venue with a welcoming atmosphere that felt fitting for Sophie Duker. The set that I watched was packed with witty pop culture references, hilarious physical comedy, and even a rendition of a song from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (yes, you read that correctly). In hindsight, this should have come as no surprise to me; Duker is a natural performer and thrives on the audience’s infectious laughter.
As the set progressed, Sophie Duker recounted her problematic relationships with her parents and, more specifically, the steps she had taken to fix her so-called ‘daddy issues’. Her mother’s extreme piety, which manifests itself through filling her flat with holy water, is laughed off and she deals with the trauma of a distant father figure in an amusing, but not completely unserious, manner. The result is a story that is simultaneously very personal yet comically exaggerated; for an audience member, this balance allows one to both laugh and reflect. At the heart of the show she delves into the therapy sessions shared with her dad. This section garnered the biggest laughs, not least because it saw the introduction of the cartoonish therapist character, Michelangelo. The emotional weight of these stories must equally not be discounted; Duker’s ability to find humour in her experiences is a testament to her skill as a comedian.
Sophie Duker’s style is marked by self-awareness, both of her position as a comedian and as a black queer woman. This forms the bulk of her material, from checking her ‘LGBTpH value.’ to recognise the struggles faced in her line of work. In the first moments of the show, for example, she admits that her first ‘international’ tour saw Dublin doing a lot of the heavy lifting. Further, the description of her desperate turn towards the option of a sugar daddy, amidst the cost of living crisis, is both hilarious and scarily realistic for those in the comedy industry. This leads to one of the most memorable points of the show, namely her unexpected but hysterical musical performance of ‘The Creepy Man’ – rather than ‘The Candy Man’ – in which she lists the perks of dating a more financially successful, albeit creepy, person. In the final moments of the show, Duker delivers her concluding proverb that is guaranteed to stay with you long after you leave the venue: that ‘delulu is the solulu.’ Perhaps it is the biggest strength of this show that such a modern term like ‘delulu’ could resonate not only with Generation Z but also older audience members. Her message is that being delusional is fine – and often a good thing. Her own experiences have taught her that this is often very necessary, when surrounded by unrealistic beauty standards or worrying political developments.
‘But Daddy I Love Her’ is a show very much worth watching; it doesn’t simply offer cheap laughs, despite there being no shortage of clever standalone quips. Instead, Duker tries to offer us a more hopeful – and amusing – way of looking at life’s many problems, in her own quirky and unique way.