Speaker
Vittorio Angelone
Appearances over time
1 episodes
Episodes
1
Podcasts
Quotes & moments
Vittorio was told the NHS waiting list for an autism assessment was 4 years long.
Vittorio Angelone received his adult autism diagnosis at age 29, after years of unknowingly upsetting people socially.
After doing stand-up bits about his autism journey, Vittorio received 5 offers from autism practitioners to assess him for free.
Vittorio's autism assessment showed he scored incredibly high on masking — suppressing autistic traits — which explained why other markers weren't more elevated.
Vittorio was diagnosed with autism level 1 — what was previously called Asperger's — which requires no outside assistance to navigate everyday neurotypical life.
Vittorio was diagnosed with both autism and ADHD — a common comorbidity he describes as a 'buy one get one free' package deal.
Vittorio's Instagram response to an Irish Times article about his show got around 40,000 likes, going viral in a way he didn't anticipate.
After being allegedly spiked in Nashville, Vittorio was treated at urgent care with an anti-vomiting injection for $200 — far cheaper than he expected from the US healthcare system.
Vittorio beat a redneck named Jimbo at pool in Nashville — showboating the whole time — and woke up unable to stop vomiting. The working theory: Jimbo spiked his drink. He ended up in urgent care with a $200 anti-vomiting injection, then faked an ankle injury to get wheeled through the airport.
Chris is consciously shifting Modern Wisdom toward looser hang episodes — friends talking about whatever, no homework, no takeaways. He senses that raw information dumping has already been covered by him and others, and that people are more lonely than they are uninformed. The content they need isn't more data.
The day after landing in New York, Vittorio turned to his girlfriend at the 9/11 Memorial and said 'I've shit my full pants.' His tour so far: alleged drink spiking in Nashville, impromptu wheelchair assistance, and now this.
Vittorio was told the NHS waiting list for autism assessment was 4 years. He got 5 free private offers from practitioners who attended his tour shows. His assessment came back: traits slightly elevated everywhere, masking score through the roof — which is why he wasn't diagnosed sooner.
Masking — performing neurotypicality — is exactly what stand-up requires: saying something you've rehearsed a thousand times as if it's the first time. Vittorio argues being a touring comedian makes him a world-class masker, which is partly why his autism went undetected for so long.
Vittorio has autism level 1 (formerly Asperger's). Autism level 3 means full-time care and being nonverbal. He finds it strange they share the same diagnosis — like stage 1 and stage 4 cancer being called 'cancer'. The Asperger's category helped, but it's been retired because Asperger was a Nazi.
Vittorio posted what he thought was a calm correction to an Irish Times review of his show. It got 40,000 likes, went viral, and the journalist started receiving hate messages. They had a call, both half-apologized, and agreed to disagree — but neither thinks they were fully wrong.
You can be cancelled for something illegal, or for something offensive. But cringe cancellation is worse: it's making your brand equity so embarrassing that association with you becomes social poison. Chris explains this is why comedians are often weaponised — they're the delivery mechanism for cringe.
A clip of Vittorio saying 'people keep telling me I'm the fucking guy this year' was sent around comedian WhatsApp groups while he was having the best month of his career. He found out a month later. It took nearly two years to rebuild the bravado the fallout had suppressed.
Both Chris and Vittorio grew up in cultures where having 'notions' — thinking too highly of yourself — was a social offence. Chris admitted he still downplays his success in interviews and suspects a deep-seated belief that he's too unlikable to be allowed an ego. The fix: you're almost certainly not going to overshoot.
TV producers asked Vittorio if he worried his audience might include incels or Tate-adjacent men. His answer: that's exactly the audience he wants. If he and Mike reach them first with openness and silliness, those men are less likely to end up radicalised.
Vittorio's tour show is named after a viral clip of bowler Pete Webber shouting 'WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I AM.' He didn't plan for Webber to be a metaphor — it emerged as he toured a show about autism, social embarrassment, and reclaiming his confidence. Webber was away when Vittorio performed the show in Nashville. He's followed back on Instagram but hasn't replied.
People assume autism means blissful unawareness. Vittorio says it's the opposite: constant anxiety about whether you've upset someone, with zero ability to tell. You apologize when you didn't need to, and pat yourself on the back when you've ruined someone's day.
Vittorio's optimistic case for AI: when you can't trust anything on your phone anymore, live experiences become premium again. Concerts, comedy shows — you know they're real. The phone is already giving people the ick. Being in the real world might come back into fashion.
Vittorio's Guide to Parenting audience skews heavily female — not because they're targeting women, but because goofy, silly, unguarded male chat is a thing many women don't get from their friend groups. The Basement Yard sold out Madison Square Garden with a 90% female crowd.
Analysis
What they talk about
- Health & Fitness 45%
- Society & Culture 33%
- Arts 11%
- Comedy 11%
Connections
Shows they appear on and people they share episodes with. Drag to explore.
