James Acaster: A Joke About Going Undercover

James Acaster (0:30)

I wanted to be, when I was a kid, when I grew up, I wanted to be an undercover cop. I didn't tell no one. I kept it secret. I didn't want to grow up, become an undercover cop. First day on the job, already blow my cover. Went in my mouth, I fell around town as a child.

So I was smart. Whenever an adult asked me, what do you want to be when you grow up, I thought long term, I said, drug dealer.

Every time, they can grow up, become an undercover cop, infiltrate a gang of drug dealers. If anything gets suspicious, like, hey, you think James won't be an undercover cop? The others will be like, no way. This is his lifelong dream. Don't you ever say that again.

It paid off, man. I'm now an adult. I'm a fully-fledged undercover cop. Why am I doing stand-up? I'll tell you. Ten years ago, I had to infiltrate a gang dealing drugs to comedians backstage at comedy gigs. Naturally, I assumed the identity of a stand-up comedian to get close to the gang. Ten years down the line, still haven't closed the case, but the gigs keep rolling in. Good to be here. Needless to say, the boys at Scotland Yard don't much appreciate me telling you all this shit. I get in trouble all the time. The captain called me in to his office the other day. Springleaf! That's my real name. Pat Springleaf.

Springleaf, get in here! What's it to hear about you talking about the case on stage, you total idiot? Cat, it's not my fault. You keep booking me all these gigs, filling my diary all the time. I'm having to write new material. Of course, I'm talking about my real life now. I'm running out of ideas. If you don't like it, stop booking me so many gigs. He's like, you're forgetting I'm carrying the undercover as a comedy booker right now. I have to book these gigs or it looks suspicious. He's the worst booker ever, man. Got me this shit. Got me that gig in Crawley with a man throwing Maltesers at me and call me a bitch.

Got me that gig in a members-only club. The worst gig he ever got me was in a members-only club. 20 of the most entitled people I've ever met in my life treating me like their own personal court jester for the whole show, just hecking me and knocking back calamari shavings. It's awful. I won't even get him paid money. A payment? Membership to the club. At one point, I started bantering with them, asked them what they did for a living. Turns out, they were all stand up comedians who had done the gig in the past.

I got over it two weeks later, had a mouthful of olives, hecking Josh Whitacombe like a champion. No regrets. I love being an undercover cop. I love it. Purest form of copping there is, just pure copping. Pure copping. Don't even wear a uniform. Every day is a muffdy day. Imagine that. Just me and my muffdy. And a gun. I got a gun on my ankle. That's it. Just pure copping. It's me, my muffdy, and my gun. And a wire. I wear a wire at all times recording what's going on around me, but that is it. Just pure copping. It's me, my muffdy, my gun, and my wire. And a magnifying glass for looking at clues.

Let you in on a secret. I originally did that bit with the gun. Didn't go as well. Went bad.

I'm currently infiltrating this gang of drug dealers. I'm in the gang, and I'm blending in like a roast parsnip and a bowl of roast potatoes. So, so smooth. No problemo. Oh, I should explain, actually. Um, no problemo. That is a gangster term. It means I can perform the task assigned to me without any difficulty.

You've got to talk gangster when you're hanging out with gangsters. Once, I nearly gave myself away by saying flabbergasted. Luckily, I managed to convince him it was a homophobic slur. Watch James Acaster Repetoire only on Netflix.