The Official Philly’s Phunniest ranking System

by Mike Covers

DISCLAIMER: I have tried to make most of my writing on ComedyTrainRek as broadly appealing as possible. Typically, this is easy to do, especially if you play Pokemon Go religiously, like I do. However, I do hail from the greater Philadelphia area, and one of the defining characteristics of many people from this corner of the planet is that they are only mildly aware of life beyond the Pennsylvania-Delaware-New Jersey tri-state area. While I tend to consider myself worldly (meaning that I have traveled to NORTHERN New Jersey, which Philadelphia does not lay claim to), I am afraid that the remainder of this piece will only make sense to you if you are a Philadelphian.

In fact, it will only make sense to you if you are in Philadelphia’s local comedy scene. The Philly comedy scene makes up just a fraction of the city’s populace, with the people who actually SHOULD be doing comedy make up just a fraction of that. Proof: Philly’s biggest contributions to comedy being little more than Bob Saget, Kevin Hart, and Larry Fine (not even one of the Howards, the lone odd one out!).

Each year, the Philadelphia branch of Helium comedy club hosts its “Philly’s Phunniest” contest. Comedians from all across the city, its suburbs, and parts of New York compete in the event, provided they meet the strict comedic criteria of paying the nonrefundable $20 entry fee. Round by round goes by, with the funnier (Phunnier) comics advancing to the next round and the others cheering on their former competition and/or posting dismal Facebook status updates. Occasionally the audience judges the comics, while in later rounds, actual judges take on the burden/personal grudge fulfillment. After months of this, when the next year’s competition is about 3 days from starting, a “Philly’s Phunniest” winner is crowned. They gain HUGE Facebook bragging rights, a $1000 prize (which, for a local comedian, means that they are now only $149,000 in debt as opposed to $150,000), and regular slots at Helium that include, seriously, hosting future Philly’s Phunniest contests (the Facebook bragging rights are worth far more, and pay Eat better). 

In the earliest rounds of the contest, which is basically a weeks-long open mic, meaning that it is almost twice as long as regular open mics. Since actual judges who base decisions on comedic talent and presence would not advance ANYONE in these rounds, these shows are instead judged by audiences. Each contestant is given 10 comped tickets for their performance night,  which they offer/beg/bribe their friends, family members, fellow comics, co-workers, random homeless people, etc. to snatch up. In essence, they’re hoping that at least one person they ask will sacrifice whatever else they were doing on a Monday night to come out to Helium, attend the 9PM show (which starts right on time at 9:45PM), drop the better part of $30 on the club’s mandatory two-item minimum, and help them advance to the next set of rounds, which they ALSO get comp tickets for, thus beginning the process all over again. 

Anyway, as a longtime supporter of the comedy scene and having made many friends in it with whomI share all my streaming passwords, I always enjoy helping out with this, assuming it falls during a pay week. And I recently went out to such a night to support a good comedian friend of mine. 

As an audience member, you are asked to rate each of the 12 or so comics you see, which is about 11 more than you actually WANT to see. You’re supposed to give a 1 to the best comic, a 2 to the second best, and so on down the line. At the end of the night, the votes are tallied while the host, themselves a former Phunniest champion who had nothing better to do that night, does about a 45-minute set to people who just had to sit through at least 10, likely more, excruciatingly bad comics, their friends notwithstanding, of course. Like in golf, only with much uglier pants, the comics with the three lowest scores win and advance to the next round. The comics with the 3 highest scores get free tickets to a Jason Aldean concert, probably, given what they consider to be comedic material in most cases.

That’s how the process is SUPPOSED to work, anyway, in an ideal world. Actually, in an ideal world, there wouldn’t BE such contests and comedians would ascend to the stratospheric heights of SNL, Netflix specials, Helium Monday night hosts, etc. the old fashioned way: by nepotism.

Here is how the ranks are ACTUALLY given. Let’s say there are 14 comics competing. Let’s also say that you are somewhat active in the Philly comedy scene, be it as a comic, supporter, or bartender. This is how you rank them: 

1. Your friend who gave you the comp tickets. They automatically get your top vote. It doesn’t matter if they were hilarious, if they bombed worse than a post-Endgame Marvel movie, or even if they showed up. They are awarded your highest honor, no questions asked.

2. Your other comedian friend who did NOT give you comp tickets because they gave theirs to other people (or you didn’t see their own Facebook post giving them away first).

3. A comedian who you really want to sleep with.

4. Someone you know fairly well in the comedy scene.

5. Someone who you’ve heard of in the comedy scene.

6. Someone who you’re relatively sure you’ve heard of in the comedy scene.

7. Someone in the comedy scene who you have seen on Facebook, but not necessarily on your friends list.

8. Someone who shares your first name.

9. Someone who shares the first name of anyone in your first through third ranking spots or, barring that, a good friend or deceased pet.

10. Someone who actually made you laugh. Note that only now are we actually judging on the criteria.

11. Someone who made you chuckle.

12. Someone whose routine you remember at least one word of.

13. Someone random.

14. The other person you didn’t rank yet.

Last place may also be awarded to:

• Someone in the comedy scene you truly don’t like
• The one with the most racist set.
• Someone in the comedy scene who you dated and it didn’t end well.
• The comic who went on while you ducked out to go to the bathroom.
• Your friend’s rival/ex in the comedy scene.
• Someone who has the same name as your (or your friend’s) ex.

This may seem like a ridiculous ranking system, but chalk it up to “comedy scene politics,” which is both very real and makes even less sense than this ranking system. Every Philly area comedian who has read this far (which is honestly not many) is nodding their head in agreement with every last ranking spot.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to settle my $27 bill for iced tea and 6 lukewarm mozzarella sticks. Best of luck to all of the comics competing in Philly’s Phunniest this year (unless, of course, you’re my ex).