rish comedian Ruth Hunter started standup in 2015. She immediately noticed “everyday sexism” – male comperes introducing performers by commenting on their breasts, all-male lineups – but was unsure how to challenge it. Over the summer of 2020, now in Glasgow, Hunter followed the news as sexual harassment allegations against men in Irish and UK comedy were shared online. “Someone who I thought was grand turned out to be a major creep and it unlocked something,” Hunter says. “You might be threatening your own career by talking about this stuff, but I don’t care. The stakes are too high.” While a handful of individuals had been ousted from the industry, “nothing had changed” in how the scene was structured, says Hunter. “There’s a knowledge gap as to what the problem is and what behaviours encourage more extreme crimes.” She set up a campaign group, Comedy Safety Standards, and began planning solutions. Comedians Nina Gilligan and Kiri Pritchard-McLean were having similar conversations. Both had spoken to the Guardian about personal experiences and the systemic issues allowing sexual harassment to thrive in live comedy. Now, they were determined to act. “We’ve lost too many brilliant performers to harassment before, we don’t want to lose any others,” says Pritchard-McLean. “I hate the idea that we have one of those industries where people think it’s some weird rite of passage to be harassed. That is totally unreasonable. We can pour our energy into at least trying to make it better.” Gilligan says: “Being able to say ‘me too’ is the first step. What’s beyond that?” It’s a big question for a big problem. Many of the negative experiences – from sexism in gig bookings, compering and green-room conversations, to sexual violence backstage, in car shares and when performers are denied proper post-show accommodation – are enabled by live comedy’s lack of structure and regulation. Many say there is nowhere to turn – no human resources department and no union, while the person in charge of the gig or venue may be friends with the perpetrator, or may be the perpetrator. Without a channel for making confidential complaints, victims fear they will lose work or face character assassination for speaking out. The only protection has come from the whisper network and privately circulated lists which, at times, have caused confusion and mistrust. Gilligan and Pritchard-McLean’s solution is ambitious. “The elevator pitch is: an industry-subsidised, industry-led, independent HR to tackle sexual harassment within live comedy,” says Pritchard-McLean. They called it Get Off. “We wanted something unapologetic. ‘Get off’ is the classic heckle,” Gilligan explains. “It’s making completely clear: this is unacceptable on the live circuit.” The pair soon realised the extent of the task. “The minute you scratch the surface, you see why it’s never been done before,” says Gilligan. They held focus groups with industry members from diverse backgrounds and job roles. These concluded that people wanted five things: clear codes of conduct, education and training, safeguarding standards, HR support and cultural change. Get Off aims to address all five through a kitemark system. To belong to Get Off, and to be able to advertise that membership (much like food products displaying a Fairtrade logo), venues and promoters will need a sexual harassment policy and regular training equipping their workers to uphold it. Members will get access to independent HR services, allowing them to seek advice from an expert with no connection to comedy. Get Off has already hired an independent HR professional. “Part of the problem with comedy, and why self-policing has failed, is we’re quite an incestuous industry,” says Pritchard-McLean. “[Our HR person] will never come to a comedians’ Christmas do – it’s keeping those really clear lines.” The organisation is a community interest company, a type of social enterprise where performance is assessed by a board of directors (currently Gilligan and Pritchard-McLean, but they’re looking to recruit experts in victim support and HR). There are measures in place to ensure an impartial process would be followed if allegations were to be raised against anyone in Get Off. The organisation has consulted experts including Welsh Women’s Aid, Cranfield Trust, which provides support to charities, lawyers, unions and others. “We can’t promise people: ‘We’ve got something to help keep you safe,’ then it not be robust,” Gilligan says. Hunter sought expert help, too. In Ireland, she and a group of comedians approached Dublin Rape Crisis Centre and together with the centre the standups are creating training sessions that will begin later this year. In the UK, she contacted Good Night Out, an organisation that tackles sexual violence in nightlife settings. Good Night Out runs workshops for nightlife workers, as well as an accreditation scheme (similar to Get Off’s kitemark) for venues and event organisers. In a 2020 study, around 90% of nightlife workers who completed Good Night Out training said it improved their knowledge of the nature and extent of sexual violence, while 86% said they left knowing more about how to respond to sexual violence in their workplace. Working with Hunter, Good Night Out ran a pilot for 20 people in comedy, figuring out how to address industry-specific issues. “There was a big demand for how to respond to someone disclosing,” says Jess Poyner, Good Night Out training programmes coordinator. “One of the other hotspots was around transport and having somewhere to sleep.” The first official workshop in November covered this, as well as the definition of consent, sexual harassment law, and barriers to people in comedy reporting incidents. The workshops welcome anyone involved in live comedy and their aim is to establish “safer, more accountable communities” where everyone is able to recognise and challenge sexual harassment. Hunter says: “It’s about getting comedy as a community to have the vocabulary to talk about this. If we can name this, we can say: ‘Don’t do that.’” In the past, some people haven’t reported incidents that were seen to be in a “grey area”. The workshop addresses this with talk of intent versus impact, concluding that the way our actions affect someone is always more important than intention. “It helps develop people’s empathy,” Hunter says. “If we all know the effects this can have on people, we can start to have a more useful conversation.” Participants discuss subjects such as how bystander intervention could help. “There’s space for behaviour change and a nuanced conversation around different levels of response to different behaviours,” Poyner says. “So far, no major club has said they will do the training,” says Hunter. “Some are re-editing their codes of conduct, but that is just the first step.” Ideally, venues and event organisers have a sexual harassment policy, training, and advertising to show harassment isn’t tolerated and victims are safe to report, says Poyner: “None of these things work well if you don’t have all three.” Gilligan and Pritchard-McLean say people in the industry expressed support for Get Off once they understood the concept and fears of a “witch hunt” were dispelled. Clubs are “keen” to be part of the solution. “We’re trying to make it easy to get on board,” says Gilligan. That includes affordable membership: Get Off will be priced as a small proportion of ticket sales. Hunter fundraised to make the Good Night Out pilot free and aims to keep future workshops affordable. Gilligan received messages from comedy fans asking how to avoid acts or nights implicated in harassment: “It was nice that audiences were being so thoughtful.” The Get Off website will show a map of those with the kitemark, which audiences and performers may find useful. Get Off aims to launch in April – coinciding, hopefully, with the return of live comedy. While it may be impossible to eradicate harassment, there’s hope Get Off and Hunter’s efforts can reduce it and create a culture where victims finally feel supported. Gilligan says the project has been a positive channel for her own experiences: “I’ve found it really cathartic; it’s felt like a healthy response.” While Get Off and Comedy Safety Standards look forward, the #MeToo movement has also encouraged many to look back. “These initiatives do mark a before and after in how we address sexual harassment in our industry but historical abuse in the before phase should not be buried,” Gilligan says. “Having an individual held accountable may bring healing for the victims and sends out a powerful message to the industry as a whole, but it can only happen when the survivors are ready. It’s going to take time.”