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As the clinician moved her Botox-filled syringe towards James Barr’s forehead, he blurted out something he’d never told anyone: his partner was abusing him.
“I think if you’ve been hit by your boyfriend, strangled, pushed down the stairs, verbally abused and psychologically messed with, then a needle coming towards your face is the definition of being triggered,” says the British comedian and breakfast radio host. “I had a rush of feelings I’d been suppressing for so long, and the clinician obviously stopped to make sure I was OK.”
Barr admitted he was far from OK, prompting the woman – whom he’d only just met – to reveal her own experience: she had left her violent husband to protect herself and her daughter. “It’s moments like that where you realise you’re not alone,” says Barr, speaking exclusively to this masthead over Zoom from his London home.
In March, Barr, 41, will bring his stand-up comedy show, Sorry I Hurt Your Son (Said My Ex To My Mum) to Sydney, Adelaide and Melbourne. The first part of that title is what “Alex”, as Barr calls his former boyfriend, wrote in a Christmas card to Barr’s mother after their four-year relationship ended.
“I don’t think he realised what he was saying,” Barr says, noting that Alex often claimed his abuse upset him more than the man he inflicted it upon. He believes Alex intended to apologise for the emotional distress he’d caused – and that his use of the word “hurt” was unwittingly revealing.
Shortly after Barr left Alex, he snapped in the middle of a live show, unexpectedly telling the audience that he’d broken up with the man he thought he’d marry. It was horrible, and he assumed his comedy career was over.
Six months later, after much intensive therapy, he began working on Sorry I Hurt Your Son, which he has performed more than 100 times, earning a swag of four- and five-star reviews. The version he will bring to Australia is significantly different to its earliest incarnation. And he has an unlikely trio to thank: his co-directors Madeleine Parry (who also directed Hannah Gadsby’s globally successful Netflix special, Nanette) and British comedian Chris Gau; as well as high-profile Welsh TV producer Russell T Davies, who created Queer as Folk and was showrunner and head writer for the Doctor Who revival in the early 2000s, among other hit shows.
Davies told Barr there was a crucial element missing from his show: an understanding of why he fell in love with Alex. Parry and Gau had already made similar observations, to no avail. “I was really angry,” Barr recalls. “I didn’t want to talk about why this guy was great. Why should I? He hurt me!”
‘I didn’t know this could happen to a man. I just assumed it was a bit of rough and tumble.’
James BarrThen it dawned on him: the stereotype of abusers as ogres with no redeeming qualities made it harder for him to label his own situation as abusive. After all, Alex could also be charming, tender and affectionate.
“It’s an important thing for us to face as a society,” Barr insists. “We have to look at this differently and realise that [abuse is perpetrated] by our family members: our mothers, our fathers, our brothers, everyone. But I think it’s easier not to acknowledge that, because then it doesn’t hurt as much.”
Being in a same-sex relationship was another barrier.
“I didn’t know this could happen to a man,” Barr says. “I just assumed it was a bit of rough and tumble; that it was my fault because I’m meant to be a man, I’m meant to be strong, and it made me question whether I was sort of allowing it because I chose not to fight back.” (According to a 2024 Australian government report, one-quarter of women have experienced violence from an intimate partner and one in seven men; in LGBTIQ relationships, that proportion exceeds 60 per cent among survey respondents.)
Like most abusers, Alex also used verbal degradation as a means of control: telling the red-headed Barr he’d dumped a previous partner “because he was ginger”, for instance, or making cruel (and false) remarks about his intimate body parts during sex – and in front of their friends.
Barr understands why people baulk at perceived attempts to “humanise” perpetrators, and he’s at pains to emphasise that nothing excuses their actions. But he’s determined to help those who might struggle to recognise they’re in an abusive relationship, partly because they do feel some degree of love or affection toward their abusers. Equally, he hopes those who inflict physical and emotional torment might recognise some of Alex’s behaviours as their own.
But how is it possible to make jokes while telling a story with so many horrifying elements?
“That was very difficult for a while,” Barr admits. “The key was finding the internal, delusional voice that I was using in the relationship. It signals to the audience that it’s OK to laugh because this is my voice, which is very disarming. Comedy has always been a protest. It holds people to account, and you can say huge things in a safe way. It’s a universal truth that with comedy, we can change the world.”
James Barr performs Sorry I Hurt Your Son at QTopia Sydney on March 16, Adelaide Fringe from March 19-21, and Melbourne International Comedy Festival from March 26 to April 5. Details: jamesbarrcomedy.com
Support is available from the National Sexual Assault, Domestic and Family Violence Counselling Service (1800RESPECT) on 1800 737 732, and Lifeline on 13 11 14.
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