What first drew you to character comedy? As a kid I loved television, especially whatever my parents watched. Dad liked the anarchic 80s stuff like The Young Ones. Mum liked the 90s situational stuff like The Vicar of Dibley and The Royle Family. My taste was an amalgamation of theirs, plus The Simpsons. For a weird kid, it was glorious to see huge, strange characters being laughed at and celebrated for their stupidity, eccentricity and energy. When I started gigging, it was a no-brainer to do character comedy. Standups create a persona anyway, so I thought: why not make a persona who is much more fun to play than me? How did you get into comedy? For ages, wanting to do comedy was a secret I was too scared to admit. As a teen I came up with the most roundabout ways that I could to end up “accidentally” doing comedy. One plan was to get a job presenting BBC Breakfast with Charlie and Susanna. Then the BBC would ask me on Let’s Dance for Sport Relief. I’d say, “Ohh scary hehehe,” and I’d end up being hilarious and everyone would laugh at me. Eventually a confident pal took me to a workshop run by a university improv troupe, who ended up scouting me for their show. Officially funny and cool people telling me I was funny was the boost I needed to admit I wanted to try it properly. What’s been one of your all-time favourite gigs? Frankie Thompson and Friends at the Moth Club in London. An all-women/non-binary lineup (plus a token Sam Campbell). It is still unfortunately common to be the only woman on the bill, so this was a delicious tonic. Who on the circuit currently makes you jealous? Jodie Mitchell. Stupid, genius, radical, chaotic and their performances are like honey. Can you recall a gig so bad, it’s now funny? A gig at the fringe where I had to hold a fancy Polish chicken while performing. She was a star! She kept flapping on my punchlines and had great timing. The audience didn’t pay any attention to me and I couldn’t even hold the microphone properly because I was holding a chicken. Your debut show, Skin Pigeon, was greatly received in 2023. What was the process of making the show from scratch? I’d been gigging for a year when I won the 2022 Funny Women awards. Suddenly there were lots of eyes on me. I had roughly assembled an idea of a show and started working on it with my director: I didn’t know what I was doing but I knew I wanted it to be stupid. I wanted to play lots of characters and make a show that didn’t mean anything. I didn’t want anyone to walk away thinking they learned something! I wanted it to be a fantastic waste of time. Country Mile Productions asked if I was thinking about the fringe. It was terrifying because I was so new. But I worked really hard on it and I’m glad people liked it. Best heckle? During one of my shows at Soho theatre, someone in the audience shouted along to one of my jokes – the cheetah one. (The joke that “killed comedy” according to the Sun.) It was so strange. It was like I was a band! I’m not a band, I am a woman. I panicked and let them carry on. Missed out on my Lorde shhh-ing the audience moment. Any preshow rituals? Half a pint of full-fat Coke. You’ve got a forthcoming Radio 4 comedy show called Time of the Week. What can listeners expect? Co-written with Jonathan Oldfield, it’s a spoof of women’s news and current affairs shows, loosely based on my experience working for Woman’s Hour. I was a terrible producer. One highlight was booking a pair of lady morris dancers who jigged live on air. Just. Bells. The longest 60 seconds of my life. Media parodies have been done so excellently, like On the Hour, W1A and Beef and Dairy Network Podcast. This is our go. At its heart is the ridiculous notion that one programme can appeal to all women. Women are not a homogeneous group. But with that as the aim of the show, we can write about absolutely anything, which is very exciting. It’s quick, stupid and surreal. With loads of women and non-binary people involved. What’s an important lesson you’ve learned from being a standup? To love and harness the power of feeling embarrassed. I think I make myself laugh most when I feel embarrassed. Any bugbears from the world of comedy? People who don’t lift up others around them. You can learn loads from supporting and collaborating with people. Lorna Rose Treen: Skin Pigeon is at Soho theatre, London, 3-6 July. Time of the Week will air on BBC Radio 4 in the spring