Don’t Look for ‘The Mother’ in Rose Matafeo

Last fall, when the third and likely final season of her sitcom Starstruck was about to premiere, Rose Matafeo gave an interview to Michael Segalov at The Guardian. Though Matafeo’s internal conflict about her part in promulgating romcom culture gave the piece its thrust (and its headline), she also touched on a recent question that had rankled her. 

Matafeo was preparing to host Junior Taskmaster, a new version of the wildly popular U.K. panel show with a cast of children ranging from ages 9 to 11. Even though, as Taskmaster, Matafeo’s role is to judge the kid contestants with the sternness the title suggests, a male journalist had asked her, “Does it bring out the mother in you?” Matafeo initially tried to joke her way out of it, but the query irritated her enough to discuss with Segalov, and, a year later, to put it in her new special, On and On and On (which drops on Max December 19th). 

In a chunk about turning to online relationship coaches to help get through a breakup, Matafeo describes learning how important it is in a partnership to make sure your core values are aligned — and that one of hers isn’t wanting children. Repeating the journalist’s line about interacting with children bringing out “the mother” in her, Matafeo jokes about the sinister imagery: “Because it’s not ‘a mother,’ it’s ‘the mother,’ yeah? ’Cause it’s this kind of idea, it speaks to this idea that in every little girl, there’s a little mother just waiting to burst out of one’s chest and sort of eat the host body to become THE MOTHER.” 

Is there anything political in Matafeo’s lack of interest in parenting? Maybe. She also just doesn’t like bending over, and believes God didn’t make her to get up before 9 a.m.

As a fellow childless woman now in my crone era, I was interested in speaking to Matafeo about the license strangers apparently still feel to interrogate women about motherhood, but we also touched on other matters: the dauntingly long Notes app note that kicks off the special (and, in a way, gives it its title); Lindsay, Matafeo’s cleaner, whose first question about her recent ex was “Bird or geezer (woman or man)?”; the wildly important coinage “cucumbersome”; the emotional weight of her favorite savory spread; and much more. 

The starting point for this set is a chaotic entry in your Notes app. On and On and On is a good title given that inspiration, but was there ever any thought of calling the special Cucumbersome?

I mean, look, I don’t want to lead with the gold. Cucumbersome would’ve potentially be a red herring thematically, but it’s one of the things I’m most proud of. And to be honest, that is a slight lie, in that I’d had that written in my Notes app for years before. That is an old joke that I, to be fair, thought was so good that it’s lasted throughout all of the copy-and-pastes into the new Notes app.

Some things you just come around to again. That often happens with jokes: You’ll write down an idea that you realize you’ve written down years ago. “This doesn’t work. How about now?”

Bird or Geezer is another one that could have worked as a title.

Yes. That is actually very good.

Are you still in contact with Lindsay? You say he wasn’t a great cleaner, but he clearly was a very good friend.

I’m not still in contact with him because I’ve actually moved out of his zone, which is annoying because he only travels by bike. But I will give him a Christmas text, actually, see how he’s doing. He shared a lot with me. He sends me photos of all of his plants and how they’re doing, unsolicited, which is probably the best kind of unsolicited photo to receive: some middle-aged man’s plants.

After reading many of your past interviews, chutney is a subject that comes up a lot, so I now have a greater appreciation for your bit about maturing into the stage of life where you want to show your love with chutney. In your opinion, what is the most expressive chutney?

Chutney is huge. You know what? I don’t know why. I mean, I love the word, and it’s a go-to concept for expressing affection. 

It might be deeply rooted in my grandmother. My nan, as mentioned in the show, is the best, and she makes this incredible chutney. They’re so prized in our family that we fight over them, and we keep tabs on how much everyone’s using or if someone’s been gifted a jar. My nan can show affection to me in many other ways, obviously, but she’ll send me back up to the U.K. with jars of all of her chutneys.

And so, I’m only just realizing in this moment that that’s what it’s about. That’s actually very sweet.

You’ve said that one of the reasons that you took a break from performing stand-up was that audiences knew too much about you. I’d love you to describe the moment that you realized you were on the opposite side of a parasocial relationship with your relationship coach, Margaret.

I mean, it’s gone kind of back and forth. I would’ve been that teenager with parasocial relationships with all the people I sort of idolized.

But I think, with all those relationship coaches, I did have a version of a parasocial vibe where I’d listen to their podcasts quite a lot, and they became very, very important figures.

It was quite funny, really. I haven’t actually thought about it like that, because I’ve been focused on the idea of people caring about my life. For them to be interested in the details of it shocks me still and is weird to me.

Obviously, I haven’t learned my lesson, though, being on one side of it and then just completely doing it again to someone else. I certainly have some learning to do there. 

There’s a particular kind of intimacy there. You describe listening to podcasts at bedtime: It can feel like they’re coming into your life.

Oh, my God. It was terrible. I’d watch them in complete darkness. I don’t vape anymore, but I was vaping so much at the time, and I’d be vaping in the dark before bed where I couldn’t even see myself vape, listening to a relationship podcast, and I was like, “That’s a new low, I think.” I haven’t shared that with anyone. That’s an exclusive, actually. Or actually, I probably have, to be fair. I’m very bad. I’m a sieve with those kinds of details about my own life. But it was very odd. I’ve definitely gone cold turkey on all of those people, though, I think, in a good way.

I was really surprised to hear you talk about people hassling you, at this very late stage in human history, about having children. Does it happen a lot?

There’s a bit of an old-man-yells-at-cloud vibe with me. I’m like, “Who are you yelling at? Who is this person?” It’s more that it’s also the way in which you grow up. I mean, it’s completely how you were socialized. To even feel a certain way about it shows that I’ve been socialized from birth, and girls are still, to kind of feel an insecurity when they don’t want that in their lives.

I described it once in a joke that never worked. It’s like getting an extra game on a pinball machine, but no one knows why, and they’re like, “Why are you still here?” You’re like, “I guess just to have fun.” 

A lot of it is me being sensitive to it. We do live in a world that’s very different to how it was for my grandmother, for my mother, but scarily, there’s a pendulum swing going back to a less progressive view with that kind of stuff. And in so many ways — socially and politically, even. 

Is it always the same kind of person who feels entitled to talk to you about this?

Quite often it’s people who have had children, or have been in the position of not wanting them and then having them and wanting them. Which is fair, but anyone who gives unsolicited advice is an insane person.

Sometimes, it’s people of a certain generation, but then, I don’t know, everyone’s different. It’s hard to generalize, but no, I mean, it’s quite legitimately often older men. That’s fun. That’s fine.

Having this stance on parenting probably makes you the perfect choice to be the Junior Taskmaster Taskmaster, because it feels like you respect the kids as colleagues, and you don’t really coddle them. 

I mean, I say it in the show. Kids are so funny and great and brilliant, and I do speak to them on a level where I do see them as sort of peers. I don’t know what this says about me and my level of maturity, but it means that when it comes to disciplining them, I could be a little bit harder. But I feel I strike a balance on Junior Taskmaster. It’s such an enjoyable show to do, and the kids are infinitely more interesting and creative than the adults who do it. No offense to many people, but it’s just an absolute treat to see what they do.

And it’s great, because I get to judge the kids, get to know them, have a laugh and then leave and wave them goodbye to their own parents and go, “Wow, what a great kid to interact with for two to three hours. I’m out!”

On Starstruck, you worked with dozens and dozens of people. Stand-up is solitary. What do you miss most about making TV when you’re doing a stand-up tour, and vice versa?

Hearing someone’s voice that isn’t my fucking own. Excuse my language.

It’s a very portable way of working, stand-up, which is amazing. And it’s great and it’s quick and fast, and I love that aspect about it. But working with a team that is incredible, like I had on Starstruck, is just a joy, because the thing becomes better because you’ve got people who are just so good at their job. I mean, even editing this special, I was in the edit nearly every day. And by the end, I was like, “Just stop talking.” I watched it on mute, actually. 

You won a comedy contest in your teens, and you were paired with a mentor who worked in the field. What was that process like?

It was actually a bunch of mentors — a bunch of New Zealand comedians who I then grew up to sort of gig with, which was always funny. I don’t think any particular person that you would know, just random New Zealand circuit comedians.

But that was an amazing thing and a weird thing. God, I bet it’s going to be like that with Junior Taskmaster. I’m going to be in the supermarket in 10 years, and they’re going to come up to me, and they’re going to be an adult person being like, “I was on Junior Taskmaster,” and I will feel terrible. That’s probably the exact way people who taught me that program feel now. It all comes full circle.

Would you consider participating in a program like that as a mentor?

I’ve judged that competition before, and I’ve mentored at that same program. It’s really fun. There are people who’ve done the program after me that I now gig with. I can’t do it, obviously, from the U.K., but I need to stay relevant in some way because I don’t participate in any sort of relevant pop-culture movements. I do need to keep in touch with the youth to ensure that I have people who will clear out my house when I die.