The Funny Thing About Death

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The Air Force was obsessed with communists and the nuns were obsessed with the Virgin Mary, neither of which were of interest to Jo or Annie. It reads like the clarity of distilling oneself down to one’s essence rather than an admission of failure.

In fact, I can't help but wonder if Annie might be slightly put out (if also proud) by how good a job she has made of this personal and tragic story. Annie’s determination to live an original life, to never be boring, is contrasted against a childhood spent on cookie-cutter RAF bases and at convent school. There’s a respectful accuracy in the telling of Annie’s journey with cancer that although deeply individual also offers a shared experience for any one of the rest of the 50 per cent of the population likely to be touched by it.

A brilliantly engaging read' — Susan Calman 'Jo's writing is a masterclass in letting the catastrophe of loss speak for itself. In fact, I can’t help but wonder if Annie might be slightly put out (if also proud) by how good a job she has made of this personal and tragic story. Like her stand-up, Jo Caulfield's caustic wit and razor-sharp observations make her account of life with her sister, even in the worst of times, as entertaining as it is touching and relatable. Indifferent as to whether it attacks fierce, rebellious individuals like her sister or ‘arseholes’ like Lance Armstrong, cancer did not provoke the Caulfields to open positivity in the face of adversity.

The cutting between their youthful history, exploring and finding their own paths into creative lives, with Annie’s later relationship with her cancer – and Jo’s relationship with that – keeps the vivacious Annie front and centre even as her body weakens. From childhood, Annie seldom let the truth get in the way of a good yarn and was predominantly an emboldening influence upon her sister. She made her Royal Variety Performance debut the year before, an atypical gig at the best of times but doubly so during peak-Covid, when audiences weren't allowed in theatres. I’ve written a book which I hope is in part a celebration of my big sister who died of cancer age 57.Busy and deeply absorbed in all the complexity of life, Ruth Scott’s packed diary suddenly had to be cleared when she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. Jo Caulfield has written her first book, a memoir about her late sister, British Comedy Guide can exclusively reveal. In the process, the comic reveals a vulnerable, conflicted side to herself that she never comes close to revealing on stage. Amidst heartache and grief shines the joy of the extraordinary sibling bond, so often taken for granted. If you are in the North America, look out for US/Canadian flag icons on popular product listings for direct links.

Annie devoted much of her life to writing about other people, those she believed to be far more interesting than her, the product of a boring, Anglo-Irish, itinerant Forces upbringing who never settled anywhere for long when they were young. But The Funny Thing About Death remains an affecting portrait of two distinct yet forever entwined personalities. Voted Circuit Comedian of the Year in 2021 in a poll of fellow comics, alongside Ninia Benjamin and Mark Nelson, Caulfield has no truck with false modesty concerning the title. Indifferent as to whether it attacks fierce, rebellious individuals like her sister or 'arseholes' like Lance Armstrong, cancer did not provoke the Caulfields to open positivity in the face of adversity. the Radio Four panel game that's not about sport, music, television, advertising, books, hats or gardening.Neither does the comedian refrain from mentioning her hurt when her sister wounded her, though their abiding love for each other never truly seems in question. Like her stand-up, Jo Caulfield's caustic wit and razor-sharp observations make her account of life with her sister, even in the worst of times, as entertaining as it is touching and relatable. My guess is that every one of us would read The Funny Thing About Death and nod at so many moments that echo what we’ve gone through or are going through.