Assuming you're in the same metropolitan liberal bubble as I am – and heavens know why you're reading this if not – then you've probably read Stewart Lee's Brexit columns online when they were shared online by fellow-thinking liberal bubble chums, and watched Content Provider on iPlayer, because that's what we do, isn't it? So why would you read them again, too late to change anything but too soon for them quite to have settled into history? For the comments, of course. Online one should proverbially never read the comments, but here the best (by which I mostly mean worst) of them have been artfully, masochistically curated into a sort of found poetry, the rubbish usernames, weary outrage and missed points serving as an authentically hideous portrait of the times, a 'Greek? None of that foreign nonsense!' chorus. Also for the footnotes, which purport to be the real story behind the comic flights of fancy, but if you believe that then you also think you're getting the real Coogan and Brydon in The Trip, or in interviews about The Trip, or in interviews about interviews about The Trip, and frankly with that sort of willingness to take obvious bullshit at face value it's no wonder the country voted Leave. But not clever Stewart Lee fans like us, of course. Hell, even when he's going for wilfully obscure reference points like Robin Askwith giant monster sex comedy Queen Kong, I've seen that too (though the experience was only slightly less gruelling than following the Brexit debacle).
The book also includes a transcript of Lee's Content Provider show – no, not in his previous book Content Provider, where the sort of lazy comedy hacks you like would have put it. Again, this is extensively annotated, proving like all of his recent work that anyone who says 'a joke isn't funny if you have to explain it' probably likes Michael McIntyre. As Stew explains in footnote number 50 (of 185), "When people say I 'have no jokes', they are right to some extent. A lot of the jokes have been removed, and the audience are invited to find them for themselves in the joke-shaped spaces that have been left behind." As a further curious bonus, at some point in my reading, the cover of the book sort-of-changed, such that in my Kindle library it was one thing, but whenever I clicked on it, before seeing the text, I'd get the cover of a different edition, not at all like the one I'd chosen. If that's a further clever commentary on how far impending Brexit will be from the model advertised, then Lee is even cleverer than I thought. Maybe even cleverer than he thought, though that would take some doing.
Of course, over the time I've been reading it, that wasn't the only thing that's changed: these are for the most part columns from 2018 - which with hindsight was a pretty good year - footnoted in 2019, which if really not on the same level as 2018, was still considerably better than 2020, let alone the prospects for any further entries in the 2020s franchise, the only release schedule as unwelcome yet seemingly inevitable as the DC cinematic universe. It's not an entirely pleasant experience getting nostalgic for those halcyon days when we innocently thought Brexit and then climate change were the worst we had coming for us - and they still are, but then the plague jumped the queue just to soften us up and make sure we didn't even get one last half-decent 'make merry, for tomorrow we die' year to fortify us first. Hell, even Lee's subsequent columns have struggled to do much to raise the mood. But maybe the footnotes and comments will salvage them when they get collected, if that's still allowed and/or economically feasible in whatever post-pandemic, post-Brexit, post-hope shell is left of Britain by that point.