One phenomenon that is extremely common in comedy circles all across the western world is for writers and performers of political satire to see themselves as brave and rebellious. Many of them truly believe that they are "speaking truth to power" with their jokes and jibes, and that they are often risking some sort of severe punishment by the state as a result.

In the vast majority of cases these beliefs are completely unfounded. This is because the claims of sexism, racism, greed, corruption and other vices made by the satirist are usually only believed by his audience. And even if this does amount to a large number of people, it's never large enough to have some demonstrable political influence. So in democracies like Australia satire almost never lands a punch on its target. Even if it does, citizens have too many rights in their favor for a politician to seek vengeance on him. He just wouldn't dare. 

This is not the case in a lot of other countries, however. In places where tyranny and corruption are widespread, those mocking the powerful are taking huge risks. Take the Iraqi comedians who are poking fun at Islamic State in the show State of Myths, for example. Sure, IS are not presently ruling the city in which the show is produced. But they are certainly aiming to. And they could well achieve this aim if not decisively beaten, and soon. In any case, the show is being broadcast in areas held by the barbaric fanatics. 

Considering the Islamists' reputation for extreme acts of brutality, being involved in any way in this production -- and particularly in a visible role as an IS character -- is courageous indeed. I doubt very much that any of the western comics who think of themselves as courageous would attempt anything so daring if they found themselves in a similar situation. 

As I get older, I look back on my years of performing comedy and see them from an increasingly detached perspective. Now that I'm over fifty, and a lot less gung ho than I used to be, it's clearer than ever to me that aspiring to be a professional funny person is a very unusual thing to want to do. There's hardly any money in it, apart from anything else. So more and more these days I keep looking at comedy and thinking, what's the purpose of all this? 

Well, it does have purpose -- dare I say it, a serious one. Making people laugh is a worthwhile thing to do, even if it does look frivolous. Imagine if no one was allowed to laugh about stuff. What a miserable life it would be.

Laughter is a release mechanism. It relaxes people. It makes them feel that things aren't so bad. Laughing along with scores of other people at, say, a standup comedy venue, can also give people a powerful sense of belonging. So it has a valuable social cohesion function.  

It can also bolster a collective sense of morality. Much in the same way that we like to know that the bad guy gets thrown in jail, we also like to laugh when the mighty fall. Take the Donald Sterling case. Everyone was laughing at that when it was in the headlines ... 

I've been thinking about other services that people provide to compare with comedy. And one that seems to have some notable similarities is sex work (no, I'm not joking). 

A laugh is like a little orgasm, after all. It's a pleasure hit for the audience member. And a bigger one for the comic. Plus he or she gets paid -- well, hopefully! In both comedy and sex work, the performers are often not rewarded financially. 

And I do think there's more exploitation that occurs in comedy venues than in any red light district. This is because a lot of funny buggers really need the laughs. They'll perform for free so they can get them! And a lot of them have contradictory confidence issues. They can be bold enough to get up in front of an audience and bare their souls for yucks. But they're often too timid to ask for a raise, or even payment in the first place. Odd. 

Obviously, if you're performing for laughs you're not selling your body, or even selling your soul. But you are doing something that's quite scary and stressful. You're certainly "out there" and crossing a lot of boundaries. And while you may not be physically naked and exposed, in an emotional sense you are! 

There's also a kind of intimacy that comics develop with their audience. This might not be the case so much with political or satirical comics or commentators. But it is often the case with stand up comedians who do self-deprecating stuff, particularly about their own lives. And there are a lot of those.

Clearly the audience appreciates it -- as long as it doesn't get desperate and creepy of course. Fans do kind of fall in love with comics -- not just in spite of their faults and frailties but because of them.

And a lot of comics do crave this weird kind of love. So, it's no surprise that psychological issues are common in the profession. Many of them are degrading themselves publicly in search of affection. That can't be healthy. And there's no denying that a lot of hookers are drawn to that world because they are damaged souls in search of love and intimacy. 

There has long been a widely held perception that comics are damaged people with a predisposition to mental illness and addiction. This view has been expressed even more frequently than usual in the wake of the suicide of Robin Williams. Every second article on the subject seems to be about how clowns are sadder than the rest of us, and that comic genius comes from the same inner turmoil that causes depression. 

I think there is something in this "curse of the comedian". But I don't think it's a given.

Many comedians are addicts of one kind or another

There seems to be a stronger link between addiction and comedy, though. I do think the kind of person who is drawn to performing for laughs is more likely to become a drug abuser and/or alcoholic than most people. There are numerous tragic examples of this tendency from the top echelons of comedy performance, with Williams himself being the latest one. 

I've also got my own experience to draw from. I've been a comic, and while I haven't ever abused drugs or alcohol, I do have other addictive tendencies. Currently I'm addicted to blogging and social media, for example. And I've long been a bit of a workaholic. 

Then there are the things I've seen while involved in various comedy scenes across Australia. When I was performing standup in Melbourne back in the nineties, for example, I was always amazed at how many of my peers smoked dope regularly. Some of them were into harder drugs, too.

I think that this had something to do with comedy being such an intense, nerve-racking occupation. Being a highly strung type myself, I would usually have a glass of wine before performing. Many others would fortify themselves in a similar way, or with a joint!

After the gig you'd be buzzing if it went well, down in the dumps if it didn't. Many felt chemical assistance was required to regain composure after either of those outcomes!

Comedy performance does make you "high"

As well as the chemical assistance comics often use before and after doing the routine, they get a powerful adrenalin and endorphin rush during the performance itself. Making a crowd of complete strangers laugh repeatedly for an extended period of time is a big challenge with huge potential pitfalls, after all. You risk public humiliation if you fail. And that's something most people fear deeply. So you're certainly amping up your nervous system merely by attempting it.

This proves that comics tend towards being thrill seekers. And there certainly is a thrill involved. The sound of laughter in all the right places is like music to your ears. Better, actually. As well as the fact that it's a kind of affection that you're getting, it also gives you a huge sense of power. Intoxicating is not too strong a word.

If you experience that even once odds are that you're going to seek it over and over again. And if you start getting paid for it, well, that just makes it even more rewarding! For many comics doing a gig every week or two is enough to satisfy that craving. But some others have a much greater need for this buzz, and seek it much more often than most. As well as constantly doing gigs, they're always "on". Robin Williams was a classic example of this syndrome. He was forever chasing the high of making people laugh.

Robin Williams was hooked on laughter

And when he couldn't get it, he still had to get his kicks in some other way. It was as if he just couldn't bear the grinding reality of, well, reality. So early on in his very successful career he found relief in drugs and alcohol. It didn't take him long to realize how destructive these things could be, of course. And he managed to swear off them for many years.

Obviously being a laugh addict was not so toxic in itself. But constantly seeking out that still potent high must have taken a toll, too. I'm not saying that comedy killed him. But I do think Williams, like so many other comics, was a slave to the thrill of making people laugh. And that deep psychological need did have something to do with his chronic depression and ultimate suicide. 

Like so many people I was shocked to hear about the sad untimely death of Robin Williams last month. Of course you always find news of an early celebrity death pretty surprising. You somehow expect them to enjoy longer, more robust lives than mere mortals. They are held up as icons after all. And there is so media much hype about their specialness. 

But the death of Robin Williams was different. I was really quite upset by it for a while. I think this had a lot to do with the fact that I performed standup and character comedy for many years. He, along with Woody Allen, was my reason for getting into it in the first place. 

Like so many people I first saw him on Mork and Mindy. I remember the show being broadcast here in Australia around 1980. I used to look forward to watching it after school and I recall those days with affection. But at the time I didn't have any aspirations to being a comic. That came a bit later, when I was at university doing a theatre arts course.

About that time, almost thirty years ago now, I bought an audiotape of his. It was called Throbbing Python of Love. I think I've still got it, actually. It was just dazzlingly hilarious. I was stunned by his speed and virtuosity. I can still remember staying up late at night listening to it over and over again, dreaming of doing what he did and being as good as he was.

Obviously his death and the manner of it was going to affect someone like myself a lot more deeply than most. Considering his global fame over decades, there must be so many others in the same boat. 

As well as all of us who stood in awe of him from afar there were all those comedians, actors and other performers and creative types he connected with personally -- even just briefly. He was amazingly gregarious and giving and the sheer number of people he met, helped and inspired is quite astonishing. Many of these people have written heartfelt tributes in the media.  

Then there are all those people across the globe who weren't performers and never met him. They were just fans who grew up watching his performances in various media. Many of these admirers were deeply upset by news of his death. It's a really interesting phenomenon. The type and scale of global grief that occurred has been comparable to that which followed the death of Princess Diana. 

Some of it has been a bit of a worry, I think. For example, there has been a massive and savage reaction against anyone who dared to be even the slightest bit judgemental of Williams for taking his own life. Take the case of Henry Rollins. He penned a now notorious column condemning the comedian for his suicide and it provoked the mother of all backlashes. It was so large that Rollins clearly felt his own career was under threat as a result. That's why he made such a grovelling apology. 

There are several reasons for the pervasiveness and intensity of the grief over Williams' death. But I think the main one is that he genuinely touched people. He was the real deal: a good guy with a huge heart. 

Then there was his immense talent. There are lots of good actors and comedians but none as masterful and versatile as he was. And if they are in his league of talent, they are often arrogant, even obnoxious. 

Clearly, the unique character of the man has had much to do with the magnitude of grief over his death. The widespread sadness at his loss shows how important laughter is, too. People really do appreciate it if you can give it to them. And he did, in spades. Doubtless he holds the world record for the sheer number and intensity of laughs produced by one man in a lifetime.