Regen's culture lead, Chloe Uden, talks to Stuart Goldsmith about cutting through the doom and gloom with climate comedy.
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Regen's culture lead, Chloe Uden, talks to Stuart Goldsmith about cutting through the doom and gloom with climate comedy.

When Regen first invited comedian Stuart Goldsmith to host the Green Energy Awards, the team wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. Could stand-up really work in a room full of policy wonks, engineers and climate campaigners?
It could. It did.
Goldsmith didn’t just perform – he listened. Before writing a single line, he spent hours getting under the skin of Regen’s world: the acronyms, the contradictions, the cautious optimism of a sector trying to save the planet before lunch. Then he turned it into something new – a set that was funny, human, and painfully accurate.
“The problems are the material. If the problem is the climate, that’s the material.”
Goldsmith’s starting point was personal. “I was experiencing a lot of climate dread,” he told me. “And in comedy, the problems are the material. Whatever’s keeping you up at night – that’s where the jokes live.”
For him, writing climate comedy wasn’t about escaping anxiety but processing it. “The easiest joke is we’re all doomed,” he said. “The harder one is I'm hopeful but isn't all this hope uncomfortable and difficult to maintain?!"
Goldsmith admits that making climate work has changed him – not with a Hollywood epiphany, but through small, practical shifts.
“I had a thermal efficiency survey because of Regen,” he laughed. “And it made me hate my house. I saw every draught and gap, went to B&Q, and went mad with sealant guns.”
He speaks with a kind of gentle honesty about his habits: giving up beef, thinking harder about travel, learning how systems fit together. “It’s better to tell stories of action that include the problems, not just the virtue,” he says. “People don’t need to see anyone being perfect. They need to see others trying.”
That honesty reshaped how he sees his own power as a communicator. “It’s not in my interest to preach about all the good stuff I’ve done, (or rather wish I'd done)” he says. “What’s useful is showing people what it looks like to care, to mess up, to keep learning.”
“You can only laugh about climate change if you care about it. The moment you stop caring, the joke stops working.”
"You can’t fake laughter. It’s the sound of truth landing"
Goldsmith’s take on public attitudes challenges the standard doom narrative. “I don’t think I meet many climate deniers,” he says. “That might be an over-story we’re being fed.” It suggests that we could do with finding more and better was to communicate so we can bring people with us and journey together.
He suspects the real obstacle isn’t denial but distraction. “There’s a new kind of denial that’s almost soothing,” he explains. “It’s the techno-optimism that says, don’t worry, invention will save us. It sounds hopeful, but really it’s permission to do nothing.”
For Regen, that observation rings true. The energy transition’s greatest challenge isn’t resistance – it’s fatigue. Goldsmith’s approach cuts through that by helping people feel again. “When you laugh,” he says, “something true has landed. Comedy is an empathy machine.”
Even empathy needs fuel. After years of climate gigs, Goldsmith sometimes jokes about suffering from “double doom” – the weight of the world’s problems and the exhaustion of trying to cheer up the people tackling them.
“I’ve spent years trying to pep up burned-out sustainability people,” he says. “Then one day I realised – I'm one of them.”
But that shared fatigue has made him gentler. “You can’t joke about the apocalypse without love,” he reflects. “If you’re laughing, it’s because you still care.”
“When you laugh together, you remember you’re part of a tribe. And that makes it harder to give up.”
For Regen, Goldsmith’s performances aren’t an add-on – they’re a reminder of why creative collaboration matters. The arts help people feel the energy transition, not just understand it. Comedy, especially, helps us find solidarity in the absurdity.
And Goldsmith found inspiration, too. “Regen is a genuinely hopeful place,” he says. “It’s full of peppy, powerful, vibrant and bright people. There’s real energy in the air (if it's not too cheesy to say that) – like everyone’s trying to make the world work again, and somehow still smiling while they do it.”
That impression of optimism and warmth mirrors what Regen strives to nurture in its partnerships – a mix of seriousness and play that keeps people connected to purpose.
In addition to his stand-up career and acclaimed Comedian’s Comedian Podcast, Goldsmith now brings his insights into corporate workshops and climate communication training. These sessions help organisations talk about climate change with humour, authenticity and hope – and to reconnect with the joy of taking action together.
Whether in a comedy club, a boardroom, or an energy conference, Goldsmith’s work is about helping people feel better enough to do better.
As Regen develops the next steps in its cultural programming, partnerships like this offer a glimpse of what creative energy can do – build resilience, dismantle fear, and open new pathways for connection.
Because in the end, if the world really is on fire, we might as well light it beautifully – with truth, courage, and just enough laughter to keep going.
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