With hilarious skits and irreverent humour, six seasoned standup

comics from UNOC held the audience in thrall at QNCC. By Anand Holla

It was undoubtedly Qatar’s funniest night this year. And perhaps the only time ‘United Nations’ and ‘a laugh riot’ could figure in a sentence, and also make complete sense.

On Saturday, roaring waves of laughter of a 1500-plus audience filled the majestically expansive Qatar National Convention Centre (QNCC). For nearly four hours on a trot, six seasoned multicultural standup comics – Nemr Abou Nassar, Ali al-Sayed, Sammy Obeid, Amir K, Mo Amer and Khaled Khalafalla – set off a blitzkrieg of belly laughs at the second edition of the United Nations of Comedy (UNOC).

To add to the mayhem, the funnymen were split into two teams – The Dumbocrats (We stand for nothing) and The Republicants (Yes we can, but we won’t) – and the audience’s cheers and screams, picked and instantly processed by the decibel meter, counted as their votes for the comedians. If only all elections were this simple, and all contesting candidates were as hilarious (intentionally hilarious, that is).

Variety, without once forsaking hilarity, was the coolest part about the show, created by ADabisc, a leading communication group of Qatar. Australian-Egyptian Khaled Khalafalla, the youngest of the lot at 23, kickstarted the night in fine form with his in-your-face, risqué style of comedy. The many witty layers of his side-splitting social commentary set the tone for the night, also explaining why he is called Australia’s fastest rising comic star.

Next up, Dubai’s Ali al-Sayed had the crowd rolling with laughter to his delightful ethnic satire. Sayed was spot-on with his impersonations of the stereotypical Egyptian guy mouthing stock Arabic phrases, two Indians – Malayalis to be precise – conversing indecipherably with long drawls and rapidly rolled words, and even a Filipina store-keeper talking in that distinct sing-song style and even breaking into a song while keeping the customer waiting.

Stocked up on intelligent humour, Lebanese-American Sammy Obeid sauntered onto the stage, flirtatiously, asking, “Hey ladies, you know what they say about Lebanese men?” A pause later, he said, “Nothing.” It merits mention that Obeid recently set a world record performing comedy 1,001 nights in a row.

From talking about his Bollywood movie script – a guy falls in love with a girl and then they dance about it for three hours – to using African-American slang to sum up the history of 1900s America or to give quick math lessons, Obeid’s clever comedy was a hoot.

Blending sharp observational humour with Arab idiosyncrasies, Palestinian-American Mohammed Amer brought the house down with his animated brand of laugh-out-loud comedy. Amer spoke of how he realises he has the world’s most popular name upon listening to the commentary during the Egyptian football team’s match. He mimicked: “Mohammed to Mohammed, passes to Mohammed… Mohammed, Mohammed, Mohammed, goal!” Then he said, “You’d think there’s just one guy doing all the work.”

A big draw in Houston, Texas, and a crowd favourite wherever he has performed – which happens to be more than 27 countries – Amer uses his Middle Eastern sensibilities to hilarious effect. In one joke, for instance, he talked about how his mother smeared olive oil on his face to cure him of Bell’s Palsy (a form of facial paralysis), highlighting the Arabs’ fixation with olive oil. Amer also outrageously decoded driving in Egypt and getting racially profiled in the US.

Improvising his smart standup material from the word go, was the Tehran-born, California-raised, Los Angeles-based Amir K. From making jokes about a camera hovering over his head to picking on the audience, Amir’s unpredictable set kept people excited, and in splits. “It’s so hot here in Qatar man,” he said, “I had to take 78 Ice Bucket Challenges since I landed.” Slipping effortlessly into a slew of characters – an Indian pilot eager to offer tech support services from the cockpit to gay men at comedy clubs – nothing was out of limits for the Iranian.

Backstage, minutes before the show began, it seemed obvious that nothing was off limits among all the comedians too, so long as they had fun. Poking fun at each other over a light-hearted banter, the comedians flitted in and out of their personalities even as their humour seemed seamless.

As Ali al-Sayed spoke of how he loves comedy greats like George Carlin, Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle and Robin Williams, but doesn’t borrow from their styles, Amir K jumped out of nowhere and said, “Oh yes, you do!” Sayed shouted back in mock anger, “Yeah, I admit it … I am a hack!”

When asked about the extra care to be taken to keep humour clean when performing in this region, Sayed, an events guy who turned to comedy seven years back, said, “A lot of comics come to this region to perform. But I belong here. What you have to explain to other comics is something I have grown up knowing. I understand and appreciate why we have to be clean on stage, and why we won’t talk about certain things in a certain way. There’s that whole Bill Cosby element to it. However, there’s a lot of freedom in your structure if you know your way around. Swearing or talking dirty isn’t necessary.”

Flipping through his phone, Amir lounged on a chair. Big on character-based comedy and “riffing,” which essentially is improvising on the spot, Amir finds his true métier in not sticking to the script. “That way, all my shows will be different,” he said. But Amir has a different view on holding himself back. “I don’t like censorship. We are artistes. When you are painting something, and they say you can’t use blue, you will say – But I really want to use blue! That said; comedy is now coming a long way here in the Middle East. People must realise that it’s all just for a laugh.”

Next room, Nemr Abou Nassar, the pioneer of standup comedy in the Middle East and also the star of the night, surfed on his laptop as his fellow comedians got ready to hit the stage. Nassar recalled “the excitement and loneliness of doing standup comedy in the region, almost as an experiment,” and said, “I wanted to make a difference in people’s attitudes, you know, to create an escape from politics and religion.”

Using the metaphor of the audience as a woman, Nassar explained, “The audience is the girlfriend, and their ability to grow and your success, collectively, is her parents. You want to win her over but you also want her parents to like you. And when they really like you, it means they know you, and understand what you are saying and where you come from. That’s when I can have the crowd cheering to a joke that another comedian might not get away with. With comedy, you can gain acceptance in people’s hearts.”

A few hours later, that’s exactly what Nassar did with the Doha audience. Lebanon’s King of Comedy provided a fitting finale filled with fits of laughter by talking about everything from his first waxing experience on the insistence of his ex-girlfriend and his consequent tearful screams that caused the congregation of all of Beirut’s stray dogs outside the salon, to the perils of driving with a Lebanese girlfriend or wife around, and even getting beaten by Arab parents. Nassar also involved the crowd as if they were always supposed to be part of his act. The audience as a metaphor made more sense then.

As the rollicking night ended with an impromptu boyband dance featuring all comedians along with the host Aron Kader – a gathering which prompted Nassar to label it as the Arab One Direction – to Lorde’s Tennis Court, the audience left the hall with wide smiles on their faces, some still giggling to their friend about a joke from the show they remembered.

If this is what one United Nations of Comedy show leaves us with, then perhaps we must believe in their World Peace plan; which reads thus: “We promise; to unite, to excite, and to leave the world a whole lot brighter.”