Elf Lyons: ‘Everyone kept calling me a clown... so I gave in’
Edinburgh Comedy Award-nominated Elf Lyons is bringing her new show Horses, the first ever comedy show performed entirely by a horse, to Cambridge.
A celebration of the child within, the show has everything in it. Audiences can expect mime, stand-up, and clown pieces – all performed by Treacle the horse.
Treacle’s masterful performance has been directed by Elf Lyons, assisted creatively by Trygve Wakenshaw and Dylan Moran.
We put some questions to Elf, who was included in The Telegraph’s list of the 50 Funniest Comedians of the 21st Century in 2023.
What can we expect from Horses, which you’re touring in the UK in May after receiving an overwhelming number of five-star reviews at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe last year?
Expect big laughs, big shocks, excessive violence and bloodshed, some very silly bits, and possibly some tears.
Horses is a chaotic cocktail of comedy, clowning, mime, theatre, and pure emotion. It’s packed with nostalgia, absurdity, and a fair amount of existential dread – oh, and of course, a lot of horses.
What do you think makes the show connect so strongly with audiences?
I never really know which parts of my shows will resonate with people or who they’ll affect the most.
One of the biggest surprises with Horses has been the number of men who get unexpectedly emotional by the end.
I also love seeing people return with their friends and family – it’s the best compliment. At its core, Horses is about nostalgia, grief, and the strange, bittersweet process of growing up.
Parents who have watched their children grow up often say that it reminds them of watching their children transition from innocence to adulthood.
Adults remember what it was like to play, and everyone – whether they realise it or not – feels that quiet ache for something they’ve lost.
Also, horses love it. And anyone who has met a horse, or simply admired one from a respectful distance, seems to love it too.
Did you do any unusual research for Horses? Please tell me it involved lurking in a field and trying to communicate with actual horses.
Oh, I went deep. I learned so much about horses. The weird thing is, no matter how much research you do for a show, only about five per cent of it actually makes it in.
I watched riding lessons, studied horse births on YouTube (which has absolutely wrecked my algorithm), and took an unreasonable number of contemporary dance classes.
I also flew out to Prague to work with the brilliant Trygve Wakenshaw on the physicality of the piece. All of this, and yet, to this day, no actual horse has ever responded to my messages.
What’s the one thing you wish audiences understood about Horses that might not be immediately obvious from the outside?
Come in with an open mind. And, crucially, trust that I know what I’m doing. There is a method to the madness.
The audiences who enjoy Horses the most are the ones who let go and lean into the playfulness.
If you sit there with your arms crossed, waiting for me to “impress you”, you’re making life harder for yourself. A show is never a battle between performer and audience – it’s a collaboration.
If you come in ready to have a good time, the show takes off.
Clowns don’t always get the respect they deserve. What’s the most ridiculous misconception you’ve heard about clowning?
That it’s easy. That you just “go on stage and feel it out.” Absolute nonsense. Good clowning takes serious skill – both physically and mentally.
You need the body of a trapeze artist, the stamina of an athlete, and the ability to spin about five different comedic plates at once.
Imagine an alternate universe where Elf Lyons is not a comedian. What’s she doing instead, and how is she still causing chaos?
I love working with people, I love teaching, and I love helping others embrace their creativity. So I’d probably want to work at a community centre, working in outreach, or finding some way to support artists and performers.
I adored being a teacher, but the burnout is real. If the education system were healthier, I might have stayed in it.
But, then again, I do enjoy running around smashing up vegetables, making bonkers shows, and pretending to be animals, so perhaps this was inevitable.
What is it that drew you to clowning and mime?
Regardless of your age, background, language, or education, non-verbal humour cuts through everything.
It’s universal. I love making work that’s accessible, where you don’t need prior knowledge to enjoy it. That said, I never actually set out to be a clown – it just happened.
I never formally trained as one, but everyone kept calling me a clown, and eventually I gave in. As for mime, I adore it, even though I’m not particularly good at it.
I call my style “spaghetti mime” – it’s all about the feeling and the humour rather than technical perfection.
What’s the worst possible job to have if you could only communicate through mime?
999 emergency operator.
Your shows often push the boundaries of genre – what’s a performance style you haven’t tackled yet but would love to?
My next show (which may be my last in the realm of comedy) is all about flight and flying, and I want to incorporate circus into it – lots of tricks, aerial work, and playing with gravity.
If you had to explain clowning to someone whose only reference points are IT and Ronald McDonald, how would you set the record straight?
A clown looks at the world with the eyes of a puppy. They are light on their feet, never make a noise when they hit the ground, and never aim to hurt anyone. A good clown always sees the world with hope.
If you had to create a horror-comedy show based on your own life, what’s the scariest and funniest moment that would make the cut?
To be honest, Raven (my last show) pretty much explored and excavated those aspects of my life.
I am currently turning that into a film so that is the next project once I put this show in the stable. So clearly, I have unresolved issues.
Is there a moment from your childhood that, in hindsight, makes it completely obvious you’d end up doing what you do?
When I was little, I refused to wear knickers and would parade around the playground, morgue, and psychiatric office completely starkers. A born exhibitionist.
You’ve had a lot of success with Horses at the Fringe. Is there a moment in the show where you secretly think, “I can’t believe I get to do this for a living”?
Considering one primary school teacher called me a “dyslexic dog” and another told me I had “no physical skill whatsoever,” the fact that I now make a living out of physical comedy is deeply satisfying.
If I could go back and hug my 10-year-old self, who cried all the time, and tell her that this is where she’d end up, she’d probably stop crying (briefly).
Touring is exhausting but rewarding. What’s your guilty pleasure when you need a break from the stage and the horses?
I swim. For hours. I put an audiobook on, connect to my headphones and I just blast up and down the pool like a shark.
What’s the funniest or most unexpected thing you’ve overheard about Horses?
Men frequently tell me, “I wasn’t convinced at first, but you won me over.” I like to respond by yawning in their face.
Also, a vegan society once lodged a complaint with my management about animal cruelty because they genuinely thought there was a real horse involved.
Looking at the broader cultural context, does Horses offer any commentary on the world today?
We’re living in a time where more people than ever are feeling lonely, anxious, and cut off from each other – around three million adults in the UK say they feel lonely all the time.
Meanwhile, we’re glued to our phones. Horses pulls all of this back to the big question: What does it mean to be human? How do we want to connect, and what kind of people do we want to be?
If Horses had a theme song, what would it be?
White Horses by Jackie Lee. It’s hopeful, nostalgic, and makes me feel safe.
Since 2019, Elf’s TV and radio credits have included Comedians Giving Lectures, Comedians Against Living Miserably, The A to Z of Horror Movies, and BBC World Service Stand Up Show – London.
She wrote and starred in her own BBC Three short Top Ten Things I Have Brought Whilst Drunk, and has been a series regular on The Stand Up Sketch Show, The Colin Murray Show, and The Dog Ate My Homework. She is also a three-time cover star of The Sunday Times’ Culture section.
Elf Lyons will be bringing her new show, Horses, to the Cambridge Junction (J2) on Friday, 30 May. Tickets, priced £18, are available from junction.co.uk. For more on Elf, go to elflyons.com.
