Y’know how some people claim music makes their world go around/ they couldn’t survive without music/etc etc? Well, I’m like that with comedy, especially comedy by women, especially comedy by women that knocks the tired, old stereotype that “women just aren’t funny” straight out of the patriarchal pool of life.

Well, I’ve got my chicken sizzling in the oven, I’ve applied the final fudge flourish to the chocolate cake, and the 70’s throw back prawn cocktail is ready and waiting on the table. All I need now is a prime comedy guestlist of my favourite funny women to turn this evening into my ultimate fantasy night…

Jennifer Saunders

I try and live my life without putting a load of over-glorified idolisation on any one person (or thing) – but my rule just seems to break whenever I come across Jennifer Saunders. Since my table is limited, I had to choose between French and Saunders, but Jen made the cut for a few reasons.

I can’t talk about Saunders without talking about Absolutely Fabulous. Beyond the fact that it’s just genuinely funny, I think there are several important messages to be found in the programme. Joanna Lumley stated in an interview for French television that she accepted the role of Patsy because she had finally been offered a role where she didn’t have to be the soulless goody two shoes. Saunders has created characters that reflect real life – albeit a twisted form of it – much more closely than many other roles created for women. Because she has a ‘posh’ accent, Lumley is often cast in roles that reflect the character society wishes her to have, but in AbFab she fits perfectly as botoxed, pilled up, fashion obsessed Patsy, far better than anyone could imagine. At a human level, Saunders reminds her audience not to judge a book by its clipped accent or laughter lines; it’s a reversal of the stereotypes that just won’t go away – oh you’re old, so you can’t enjoy a drink, oh you’re a mother so you can’t have a personality away from the child. Then there’s the whole exposure of the fashion scene as the temperamental, judgemental, fat-shaming sham of an industry that it is.

She was amazing on Bad News and More Bad News, the music spoof by the people behind The Young Ones, in which she played a punk journalist that I ignorantly hoped to replicate “when I’m all grown up” (and still kinda secretly do). She’s written a Spice Girls musical which, as a 90s child, I couldn’t be happier about, and of course, I can’t round off this section without mentioning her stint as the fairy godmother on Shrek 2 and her a-maz-ing cover of Holding Out For A Hero.

Tina Fey

Tina Fey changed the face of high school comedy with Mean Girls. High school-based comedy was always full of what I’d call ‘lad-laugh’ humour; the hunt for beer, the quest for tits, the montage of vomit. Very little high school comedy ever actually showed anything within the actual school, until Mean Girls. Adapting material from the sociological study-fuelled Queen-Bees and Wannabes, Fey produced a film that wasn’t only funny, but provided an actual critique of many people’s experiences and perceptions of high school. An unflinchingly look at bitching, cliques and passive aggressive bullying that can relentlessly curse students on a daily basis, the film provided insight for those that had already left school, and a beam of hope for those currently in school. Plus it made a legend of Glen Coco and gave me one of my all time favourite lines involving wide set vaginas and heavy flows.

Fey is an unashamed feminist, which I love, and she’s effin’ hilarious about it. I have always maintained that you should use humour to show the bastards that they can’t get you down, and Fey mixes important feminist messages without ever sounding preachy or obtuse. Bossypants is an amazing autobiography where she talks not just about her infinitely interesting life but discusses truly interesting topics. The Time I Was a Bit Skinny and The Time I Was a Bit Fat are two short chapters that discuss body image; her responses to anonymous online commentators are hilarious and powerful; and her discussion of Photoshopped images of women is refreshing, honest, and completely different from anything you’ll find elsewhere on the subject.

Sophie Kinsella

You might not necessarily associate Kinsella straight away as a woman of comedy since she’s best known as a chick-lit author. On For Books’ Sake you’ll often find me arguing the merits of chick-lit as comedy aimed at women and the importance of not being put off by ridiculous flowery covers and storylines about heterosexual thirtysomething romances. I often cite Kinsella’s Shopaholic series when discussing chick-lit as comedy for women for more than the fact that I just find them funny. The subject matter of the novel could easily turn a light story into a gritty social warning – the curse of debt and addiction, the crushing demoralisation of being stuck in a career you hate in order to pay the bills, the social anguish of being judged and criticised by those you can’t help but think are better than you. However, Kinsella approaches these subjects with the character of Becky Bloomwood/Brandon and makes them funny, and while I acknowledge that it’s a tired old trope that all women like shopping, there’s plenty of subject matter to relate to.

I also love her quiet acknowledgement of the ridiculous suggestion that to read or write chick-lit you must be stupid. In an interview with the Guardian Kinsella wryly brushes off the hideous suggestion by the interviewer that somewhere her life must have gone wrong if she has an Oxbridge degree in business and finance yet chooses to write chick-lit. Her calm attitude towards suggestions that would leave me chucking plates against the wall shows professionalism and class that many would not associate with the genre.

Caitlin Moran

On a basic level, Caitlin Moran is on my list because I want so desperately to get her in a room and demand that she tells me how I can become just like her. When someone asks me what I want to do with my life, my response is always “to become a combination of Charlie Brooker and Caitlin Moran”.

I became aware of her work with How to Be a Woman. The fact that such an overtly feminist book became a bestseller is fabulously encouraging for all modern feminists, and the manner in which she writes her personal feminist agendas is inspiring. While I’m not a huge fan OF WRITING IN CAPITALS TO EMPHASISE EVERY POINT I MAKE, I am a fan of the messages she writes so simply and beautifully. Encouraging every woman to stand on a chair and shout “I AM A FEMINIST” without ever patronising those who may not automatically associate themselves with feminism is an attitude that I feel is necessary if we’re to get more young people to identify as feminists. Her statement that “you’re not fat if you can find a dress you look nice in and run up three flights of stairs” has become something of a mantra for me when I’m having a down day/week/month, and her unflinchingly honest approach to unfortunately controversial issues such as female masturbation and abortion is helping many women to finally be able to talk about them without any false shame or embarrassment. Plus, y’know, she’s piss funny and she went out drinking with Lady Gaga. Caitlin, on the off-chance that you’re reading this, STOP TELLING ME HOW TO BE A WOMAN AND JUST TELL ME HOW TO BE YOU. (End unnecessary capitals.)

Angela Carter

Okay, so this is maybe the least obvious choice for my guestlist, but let me explain. While the early works of Carter may be the epitome of darkness, towards the end of her writing career and her life, her work began to pick up elements of obscure, magical humour. Wise Children, her final novel, brings together her developing interest in the lightness of human behaviour with the eye-popping spectacle of magic realism, all of which results in a beautifully hilarious final novel with heartbreaking undertones.

I don’t just want to invite Carter because she’s funny, though. I want to invite her because she is my ultimate feminist icon. Her (at the time) unique approach to feminism and sexuality, constant refusal to change her opinions and beliefs just because she didn’t fit in with current trends, and her skills as a writer (not only of fiction, but of intelligent and
persuasive feminist essays and arguments) make her one of my all time heroines. From what I’ve read from biographies she was really, really funny in real life too, making her the perfect final addition to my table.

So there it is, my funny women party guestlist. But which women of comedy would you invite? Do you love my choices, or is my sense of humour enough to make you laugh in disgust?

• Gina Kershaw is the Features Editor on literary website For Books’ Sake. She has a fortnightly column there, Gina Goes Pop, where she rants about all things pop culture. She has a degree in English Literature and hopes one day to turn her penchant for sitting around the house in her pajamas eating custard creams and writing into a career. You can follow her on twitter – @gmkershaw91 – or check out her blog.

I say ‘feminist’ up there, I’m not sure that’s how all these artists would define themselves, but if you are a feminist or even have an interest in gender I think you may find a lot to love in their work. To be honest I’m not even sure they’d all call themselves cartoonists either… You may well have heard of them before, but if not, you’re in for a treat.

Planned Parenthood Superhero by Ellen Forney

1) Ellen Forney

I picked up I Love Led Zeppelin after Forney was mentioned in Trina Robbins’ fantastic book From Girls to Grrrlz. It would have been worth it just for the fantastic ‘how to’ series, which include: how to re-attach an amputated finger, how to dominate someone, how to talk to your kids about drugs. But there’s lots of good stuff here (especially if you like your stuff on the queer side) and I love Forney’s warm, clear lines.

The Plantagenets by Kate Beaton

2) Kate Beaton

Creator of the sublime Hark! A Vagrant. Lovely sketchy style and irreverent, affectionate, feminist comics about famous figures from literature and history including personal favourites Queen Elizabeth I and the Brontes.

This Shit Gets Me Down by Kate Leth

3) Kate Leth

Works in a comic book shop, is awesome. Cartoonifies episodes from her life and renders them adorable. Bonus points for feminism, geekery, queer themes and excellent tattoos. The Ultimate Kate or Die book is available from Etsy.

Mermaid and pirate embrace, by Dame Darcy

4) Dame Darcy

Artist, doll-maker, banjo-player, part-time mermaid… Dame Darcy is morbid and fabulous just like her comic Meat Cake, which largely defies description. A bizarre and chaotic mix of Victoriana, fairytales, gothic and goth, Meat Cake has a cast of equally strange characters which include a smooth-talking wolf, a superbitch mermaid, and the tragic undead Strega Pez who can communicate only through messages delivered on Pez-like tablets from her slashed throat. Makes Gloom Cookie look like The Archers.

Lovelace with cogs, by Sydney Padua

5) Sydney Padua

Sydney Padua is responsible for taking the already badass Ada Lovelace, putting her in breeches, giving her a raygun and setting her off on a series of steampunk adventures where she can use MATHS to fight crime, solve mysteries, battle vampire poets etc… There’s a book on the way it seems, but in the meantime you can buy 2D Goggles merch.

Sappho

Sappho gave birth to two of my favourite things: lyric poetry and lesbianism. Born in 630 BC on the island of Lesbos, Sappho had a pretty good life, considering her gender. She was rich, talented and of good social standing. Her poetry, which she performed with a lyre (she invented a new subtype of the instrument, and the plectrum, of all things) was well-respected. She had her face on coins and on vases. But she was pretty lonely. The girls in her circle (which was either a religious order, something like a preparatory class or simply a gathering of women, depending on which scholars you believe) would all leave her when they married, and when she fell in love with them, she knew that they would inevitably part. She probably never married herself (accounts differ, but most scholars agree she did not, despite being linked to a male poet of the day) and almost definitely preferred women.

If I could go back and get her in my time machine, I’d sign her up to a dating site, put in a DVD of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode “Restless” (which features a lesbian writing Sappho’s poetry on her lover’s back) and explain to her that when she met the right lady, she would be able to date her, live with her, and in some parts of the world, marry her.

I’d show her this video, of Ellen and Portia’s wedding:

And I would be so excited because, in this time of technology, the beautiful poetry she would no doubt produce, probably about the woman she would eventually meet online, would never be lost and never be forgotten.

Ada Lovelace

Ada Lovelace was a genius. Born in 1815 in London, she was the product of very short-lived marriage of mad, bad asshole poet Byron and staunchly moral abolitionist Anne Isabelle Milbanke. Schooled in mathematics from an early age, at the behest of a mother desperately trying to prevent her from turning out like her father, Ada began corresponding with important intellectuals on a variety of subjects while she was still in her teens, including Charles Babbage. The notes she included with her translation of an Italian mathematician’s article about Babbage’s Difference Engine were revolutionary and contained the very first working programming language, leading her to be seen as history’s first computer programmer.

If I could go to the Victorian period and pick her up, I’d go for the bright young Ada, before the affairs and the gambling. I’d show her iphones and laptops and cash machines, making it clear to her that none of this would exist without her. I’d take her to the Apple store and show her an iPad. I’d open a browser and let her google until she thought her head would explode with the sheer scope of it all. Then I’d go to the Google careers page and make her fill out an application.

Emily Dickinson

Born in 1830, in Amherst, Massachusetts, Emily Dickinson was not a famous poet during her lifetime. She was not a famous anything during her lifetime.

Known by her neighbours as an eccentric who dressed in white and rarely left the house, she wrote almost two thousand poems, only ten of which were ever published while she was living. Her fascination with mortality, due to numerous personal tragedies, along with her concise, free verse style, made her work a little too ahead of its time to be appreciated until much later. She was an avid letter writer and by the end of her life she was communicating almost exclusively via the written word.

If I could go back, I’d whisk Emily away from the early 1860s, when she was a fiercely creative thirty-something. I’d set her up in a nice apartment with a pretty garden – little known fact: Emily Dickinson was much better known for her gardening than for her writing in her lifetime – and hand her a shiny new laptop. After a hopefully brief, not too infuriating tutorial on the technological revolution, I’d introduce her to Facebook and Skype.

I’d show her how easy it is to instantly communicate with individuals from all over the globe and all walks of life whenever she pleased. I’d explain to her that now, with these tools at her fingertips, she could have her precious solitude without sacrificing the social stimulation she clearly craved. Next, I’d direct her attention to the numerous writers’ communities online. I’d show her the pages and pages of poetry – and the range of quality, from emo teens to professional writers. I’d encourage her to get involved and post daily. Finally one of the most under-appreciated poets of the nineteenth century would be able share her thoughts, feelings and art with like-minded individuals without ever having to leave her desk.

Amelia Earhart

Amelia Earhart, born in Kansas in 1897, was as ballsy and independent as they come. She wanted to fly, so she flew. She wanted to fly all the way across the Atlantic, so she signed up to command a flight piloted by men in a project funded by a rich woman. She wanted to do the trip for real, solo, and a few years later, she did. In 1937, she decided she wanted to be the first to fly around the world, and sadly, this was where it all went wrong. She disappeared in the air, having flown almost the entire way around the world with only a navigator accompanying her. There are too many theories about how and why this happened to mention, but the most accepted explanation is mistakes were made, preparation was shoddy and she ran out of fuel over the ocean, plummeting to a watery grave.

If I could go back and get her, I’d go back to the early Thirties, and pick her up after her solo flight across the Atlantic, before she was forced to endorse product after product just to maintain her high profile, and before the press began their obligatory backlash, calling her flying chops into question.

I’d sit her down on my bed, fire up my laptop, and show her YouTube videos of women flying commercial flights and flying for fun and flying as fighter pilots. I’d show her this video of the Women In Aviation conference in San Diego:

Most importantly, I’d tell her that flying is now safe. The technology has caught up with her dreams and it is very unlikely, in the age of GPS and state of the art air traffic control, that what happened to her would happen now. I would also let her know that now, it is possible to set off to circumnavigate the globe before breakfast and arrive home in time for tea!

Margaret Cavendish

Margaret Cavendish, née Lucas, author of a diverse list of books, on subjects like philosophy and science as well as a memoir and creative works of poetry, drama and the world’s very first science fiction novel, The Blazing World, was born in 1623 in Colchester. Yep, really. In a time when most women would never think about trying to write a word, let alone publishing under their own name, Cavendish was a famous and controversial writer.

Her critics complained about her spelling and grammar as much as they did about her writing at all. They also criticised her outlandish style of dress, calling her “mad, conceited, and ridiculous” – but her originality, paired with her keen interest in and interpretation of early science, made her popular.

If I could journey back to the 17th century, I would go to 1668, the year The Blazing World was published, and I’d bring Margaret back here. The first thing I would do is encourage her to get tested for dyslexia, as some scholars have suggested that this would have accounted for her terrible spelling and grammar. I’d show her women delivering lectures on TED about robotics and neuroscience:

I’d get her an application for Oxford University and introduce her to Microsoft Word complete with the lifesaving blessing that is spell check. Once she was accepted at Oxford, she’d get all sorts of support for her dyslexia, and shiny equipment. She would excel at all her subjects, even the ones that weren’t invented in her time. I’d watch her study, graduate, write and publish, and then become an academic, scientist, writer or all three. I’d sit back, hope for another science fiction novel, and smile smugly when she cured cancer.

Sadly, there ain’t no such thing as time travel. It’s likely there never will be. But I can wonder and I can dream. And I can use thought experiments like this to remind myself I have the freedom to love whomever I choose, aim as high as I choose, live however I choose and be respected for it. How very lucky I was to be born in 1984.

• Francesca Lewis is a queer feminist Yorkshirewoman, wordsmith and fruitcake. In Internetland, she is known as Franzi and divides her writing time between creative and journalistic endeavours, including her Big Distraction column Pop Smart and That Novel She’s Working On. In Realityland she works as an art model and spends the rest of her time on art, ukulele and the feverish consumption of media. She likes high quality American TV shows, female singer/songwriters and novels that land somewhere between literary and speculative. Ironically, she does not like fruit cake.