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Thanks for visiting my corner of the internet. I'll get the kettle on while you take a look around.


My name is Sam Avery AKA The Learner Parent. I perform stand up comedy on the national UK comedy circuit. I did my first stand up gig in 2003 and have performed thousands of shows around the world since then as well as taking 3 shows up to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. 


I also write a blog about life as a twin dad that you can read under the 'blog' tab above. This has been featured in the national press and gone 'viral' (as the kids say) around the globe, being translated into over 15 different languages. I was approached by Orion Publishing in 2017 to write a book, 'Confessions of a Learner Parent' that has gone on to become a bestseller.


My stand up and writing experience has allowed me to become an extremely versatile performer, regularly hosting clean shows for kids and a Variety Lunch Club for pensioners, as well as the rowdy weekend clubs and the sportsman's dinner circuit.


I enjoy making radio appearances on BBC 5 Live, Radio 4, Radio 4 Extra, talkSPORT and my favourite station BBC 6 Music, where I'm a regular guest on the Steve Lamacq Roundtable show. 


You can view all my clips, blogs, testimonials, press quotes and other stuff I've done using the tabs above.


If you need anything that's not on here or you have an enquiry (or just want to say hello) please drop me a line at averysam@hotmail.com


See you soon,
Sam x



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10 Things I've Learned as a Parent This Week (#29)

1.I cannot believe I EVER complained about being tired pre-kids. 2.That moment when you think there's something seriously wrong with your baby but quickly realise they're just having a massive shite. Ridiculous. 3.The key to cleaning Weetabix off the floor is not to leave it for 10 days. 4.I'm struggling to come to terms with the fact my next lie in will be in 2026. 5.I can recite all the words to The Furchester Hotel yet struggle remembering my own PIN number. 6.They should make talking baby toys swear. Just once or twice a year to keep us interested. 7.I could pick out the noise of a dummy hitting the floor in the middle of an earthquake. 8.Putting shoes on a baby will make you twice as late. 9.I could shave a chimp with ADHD quicker than I can dress my son. 10.Only if they ever make me a grandad will my boys truly understand how much I love them. I'm a finalist in the MAD Blog Awards 2016 and you can vote for me in both '

The Time I Screamed at my Kids

Before my kids arrived I swore I’d never shout at them. But choosing how to approach parenthood before your kids are born is like a caterpillar deciding what kind of butterfly they’re gonna be while they’re still building the cocoon. ‘I’ll still do loads of charity work, of course. And I’ll be REALLY nice to moths too, even though they’ll probably hate me because I’ll be so bloody gorgeous.’ Theory and reality are like sugar and shit. I’ve raised my voice to my kids more times than I can count. Often just to shout ‘STOP SHOUTING!’ which I’m aware doesn’t set a great example. ‘You should NEVER shout at your kids.’ And that’s fine. In theory. Because everything’s fine in theory. The Slimfast diet is a piece of piss until day two when you’ve had three hours sleep and someone offers you a Wagon Wheel. Of course, I never WANT to shout at them. I love them more than words can describe. But those you love are also the ones blessed with the innate ability to boil your piss q

The Time I Got Sent to the Naughty Step

The naughty step is only as powerful as the child allows it to be. I once sent my son there and 20 seconds later he came racing through the living room on his fucking bike. I briefly tried to return him to his pleasantly carpeted penitentiary but I was far too busy giggling. On another occasion, my lad wouldn’t go to bed and instead plonked himself down on the bottom of the stairs in defiance. I started to threaten him with a trip to the dreaded step of naughtiness. ‘IF YOU DON’T GET TO BED RIGHT NOW, I’ll, erm….’ I tailed off as I realised he was already sitting on the effing naughty step and my threat now made less sense than Welsh hip-hop. I could see on his little face, he’d worked this out too. He threw me a smirk that said, ‘You’ll do what, knobhead?’ I felt it crucial not to back down. So I continued: ‘I’LL PUT YOU ON THE NAUGHTY STEP, YOUNG MAN!’ ‘But I’m already on it!’ he snorted. My brain turned to scrambled egg. ‘WELL THEN!’ I had nothing. Bu