Three things you should know before leaving the legal profession to perform comedy at the Edinburgh Fringe

Hello dear lawyers of Scotland.

I am a lawyer turned comedian from Australia who performed at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe. The editor of this journal asked me to write a reflective piece about my experience. I agreed because he threatened to attack my family with a gun (Ed note — thankfully I’ve never had to resort to such coercion, our readers love contributing to the Journal). So, now that I’ve had time to reflect, here is my article, in settlement of all debts. The subject of the article is in the title and will be of interest if you are considering leaving the legal profession or are curious about doing so.

Your financial circumstances will change dramatically

Lawyers make very respectable money. That’s why many of us became lawyers. But if you leave the legal profession to become a comedian, you will make a different amount of money (a much larger amount).

This is challenging. Many of my friends who are still lawyers will talk about their new cars and overseas holidays. And I have to bite my tongue because I don’t want them to feel bad at how much better my cars and holidays are. Recently, one of my friends mentioned that he went to a restaurant and ate veal. I wasn’t able to tell him that, since leaving the legal profession, I’ve eaten far more expensive, unethical meats. Meats that would horrify you.

Another difficulty is you will often be paid in cash. On the plus side, this means you can opt out of the mass-theft-by-coercion that is taxation. On the negative side, you will find yourself engaged in ever more elaborate schemes to hide your unexplained wealth. Sometimes I find myself wondering, why do I own seven failing restaurants? Would it not be easier simply to fund schools and hospitals? But then I remember that what’s mine is mine and if people want to drive on roads, they should build their own, like I have. Still, it’s annoying.

You will feel less passionate about your job compared with when you were a lawyer.

When you boil it down, being a comedian is about making people laugh. People who’ve had a hard day. As a normal human being, I find it hard to be passionate about this. What I am passionate about is helping manufacturers of construction materials minimise their asbestos-related liabilities. As you can imagine, then, making people laugh for a month in the historic city of Edinburgh was a real grind.

You will not work as many hours, but in the hours you do work, you will also not have to try as hard.

Before I quit being a lawyer, I was aware that making a living as a comedian would be easy. All you have to do is go on stage and give kind of a funny speech. In my comedy I talk about the differences between men and women, and how people from different places have different funny accents. In return, I am rewarded with a deluge of paid work, TV opportunities and sex. It’s easy.

What I was not prepared for was just how easy it is. I have so much time every day compared with when I was a lawyer. Free time to reflect, consider life’s big questions, be present in my relationships, work on personal projects and become the person I’ve always wanted to be. This is boring and annoying.

I long for my days in the legal profession, when I could spend 10 hours researching a point of law for a smug partner to disregard when advising our equally obnoxious client. I long to take my laptop home with me on the train so I can keep typing away at my kitchen table while my spouse grows resentful. I long to work such long hours in such a toxic environment that I become emotionally stunted. Unfortunately, it has been four years since I let my practising certificate lapse, and I think to get it back I would have to do a bridging course or something. I’m not sure.

As you can tell by now, I have struggled to write this article because I’m scared to be earnest and don’t feel I have anything of particular value to say. So, thank you for reading this far. The truth is, I consider myself lucky to be a member of the legal profession and I am lucky to be able to pursue my creative ambitions. I respect the work many (but not all) lawyers do. If you’re unhappy in the profession, as I was at times, I can tell you from experience that leaving to pursue a creative career will definitely change your life, but the changes won’t uniformly be for better or worse. If you’re happy in the profession, I hope you, one, use your position to do some good and, two, enjoy your boat, vintage car or whatever.

Finally, some people who read this journal did come to my show at the Fringe after the editor kindly included it in his list of shows for lawyers to see. Thanks for coming, I hope you enjoyed it. I wish everyone the best of luck in their future endeavours. I hope to return to Edinburgh next year.

Kind regards

Andrew

Six years ago, Andrew Portelli turned his back on a promising legal career. Now he is a celebrated Australian comedian who performs everywhere. Come watch an hour of his funniest material. 'Impressive belly laughs.' **** (TheAge.com.au). 'An ocean of raw talent and an innate sense for big laughs' (Pedestrian.tv). 'We were in hysterics.' (Milk Bar Mag). Portelli delivers... with a candid and endearing ease that is unlike most everything else these days.