For comedian Jake Lambert, the most resonant material doesn’t come from observing the world around him, but from within. On stage, he transforms his lived experience with epilepsy into comedy, forging a powerful connection with audiences by sharing a condition too often shrouded in misunderstanding.
The Diagnosis: From Changing Rooms to ‘Alice in Wonderland’
Lambert’s journey began at university, with a collapse in a Topman changing room. Waking to confused faces, his disorientation was a textbook post-seizure state. Growing up with an older sister who had epilepsy meant he recognised the signs, leading to a diagnosis of Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy (JME). This common syndrome, accounting for 5-10% of all epilepsy cases, typically starts in adolescence and is part of a group of genetic generalised epilepsies, with about a third of those diagnosed having a family link.
Retrospectively, he identified earlier, peculiar warning signs from his childhood: moments in bed where his bedroom door would suddenly seem “huge and very close” or “very far away.” This, he learned, was a manifestation of Alice in Wonderland Syndrome (AIWS), a rare neurological condition affecting perception that can be associated with epilepsy, sometimes occurring during focal seizures. Such sensory distortions are a form of aura, or focal aware seizure, where consciousness is maintained.

The diagnosis brought immediate life adjustments, including the loss of his driving licence. Yet, having grown up around the condition, he avoided the fear many face. Medication controlled his seizures effectively, and after six years, he is now both medication and seizure-free.
Meticulous Management for a Demanding Career
Navigating a successful comedy career, which has seen him support acts like Michael McIntyre and appear on “Live at the Apollo” in 2023, requires stringent discipline. His seizures are triggered not by the stereotypical flashing lights but by tiredness, fatigue, and stress. This necessitates meticulous planning around a punishing schedule of touring and writing for shows like “Mock the Week.”

He describes a “tremor before an earthquake” – small bodily jerks – as a critical warning sign to slow down. An intense period last year, involving a sleeper train, flights to Gibraltar, and back-to-back shows, forced him to urgently take downtime. He has structured his life around this imperative, often going straight to bed after performances, a routine he adopted early when he quit a regular job because he couldn’t function on insufficient sleep.
Using Comedy to Broaden Understanding
Initially reluctant to discuss epilepsy on stage, Lambert found that doing so after the Covid pandemic deeply resonated. Audiences, he says, lean in as if earning his trust. His material, where he is the “butt of his own jokes,” includes darkly comic family anecdotes, like one sister with OCD flicking lights on and off – a hazard for his other sister with epilepsy.

His advocacy extends beyond the spotlight. He is working with the charity Young Epilepsy to run stand-up workshops for young people with the condition and supports Epilepsy Action’s awareness campaigns. He highlights a critical public blind spot: the ongoing, severe shortages of anti-seizure medication in the UK. A recent study cited in charity campaigns found over 70% of people with epilepsy faced difficulties getting prescriptions in a single year, with 37% reporting shortages-induced seizures. Charities are calling for urgent government action to fix the medicine supply chain.
Lambert’s mission is to dismantle the monolithic misconception of epilepsy. Through global awareness initiatives like Purple Day on March 26th, and the work of charities like the Epilepsy Society – which campaigns on issues from online trolling with flashing images to mental health support – the narrative is broadening. For Lambert, every joke about his condition is a step towards that goal, a way to show the myriad ways epilepsy can manifest and to ensure those living with it are seen, understood, and supported.
