An online enigma. The voice of a generation, chronicling the best and worst of British culture in all its beauty. 

In early 2023, a music video called Deanomania started doing the rounds on socials and YouTube. The song documents the “Deano” stereotype: spray-tanned ‘geezers’ (clad in Adidas sliders and sporting the freshest of skin-fades) that over the last decade or so have slowly but surely set up home in towns across Britain.

The comments were filled with praise for the song’s pinpoint accuracy. One comment labelled it a “work of art” that manages to “put many of your disassociated thoughts into words”. “It’s amazing how everyone immediately knows at least one guy exactly like this,” another said, while another simply announced: “Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for the national anthem.” 

The person responsible for this – a man heralded as a “genius”, a “prophet”, and “a 21st Century Chaucer” – is Sans Beanstalk, and while Deanomania is the one that put him on the map, his channel is filled with an array of similarly piss-taking tunes that span the spectrum of modern British life. The stereotypes Beanstalk has covered are varied: you have everything from rowdy England fans, to wannabe-roadman posh kids, to centrist dads, to Strava obsessives who work in finance and love a gilet. At times he’ll delve into more general, all-encompassing aspects of living in Britain: different types of pubs, grim club nights, all-inclusive holidays, the mundanity of commuter life.

Beanstalk joins the likes of Bo Burnham, Niko B and Lil Dicky in the very small contingent of rappers who manage to balance comedy with genuinely impressive skills on the mic. His satirical lyricism has produced some iconic bars – here are just a handful of examples:

• Me and the Mrs, Luton to Dubai / Matching tracksuits when we fly

• Football shirt to a festival / Dark fruit is my favourite vegetable

• Small road, big cars all covered in dents / Prove I’m hard, lick electric fence

• Tinder completed, Linda and Enid / Country air, now a horse has secreted 

• 1990 England Third / Don’t wanna play ping pong with these nerds

• Hair middle-parted / Rah, I’m clarted

A vital element of Beanstalk’s tunes are his music videos – a chaotic collage of memes and niche nods to British culture (Taz bars, John Tickle, Scrapheap Challenge). It’s this perfect marriage between song and video that has helped Beanstalk gradually reach an online audience – predominantly on YouTube, which has become the main meeting point for his (until recently) online-only fanbase. 

The comments section shows a deep appreciation for his devotion to documenting our nation. One fan said his songs “capture the ennui and relentlessness of normal, everyday British existence,” and concluded quite poetically that “there's something sad, but also quite comforting about how predictable we all are”. Another agreed that there’s a weird satisfaction gained from embracing our culture’s cringe, that it “makes the journey through this drizzly dystopia a bit brighter”. It’s fascinating seeing how widespread the Beanstalk stereotypes are, with one fan noticing “Strong Bicester Outlet Village vibes” in Deanomania, while another confirmed that “the Deano Culture is strong in South Wales”. Some have gone as far as labelling him “the greatest social commentator of our generation” and “a national poet of contemporary Britain”.

But it's hard to watch a new Beanstalk release without feeling a small sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. You’ll come across a particular line that hits a bit too close to home, and you start to think it’s only a matter of time before one of his songs takes direct aim at you, outing you for the stereotype you didn’t even realise you belong to and shining a light on the worst aspects of your personality. “Every time Beanstalk releases a song, I click on it knowing my days are numbered,” one comment said. “I feel like I've narrowly avoided the guillotine yet again.”

It’s this uncanny ability to distil the niche subcultures of Britain that has led some fans to paint Beanstalk as some kind of omniscient oracle – “a British Dr Manhattan,” one comment said, “who is able to see all of UK culture at once”. “A whole cultural database stored in this man’s swede” says another, while a slightly more sinister comment warns “every upload he gets closer to you… Embrace the Beanstalk…” It’s a testament to how in tune Beanstalk is with the British zeitgeist that in the comments you’ll often find full-on debates about politics and class and the futility of modern-day life.

Despite striking fear and existential dread into the hearts of his disciples with every new upload, Beanstalk’s popularity stems from the fact that, ultimately, he seems to be a man of the people. When a fan shared that his videos helped keep them distracted while going through chemotherapy, he offered to send them a QR code meal. In a number of Beanstalk’s songs, he’s added hidden give-away competitions and quiz questions, where he’ll order a pint to your table in the Weatherspoons of your choosing. Often you’ll find his videos (particularly Deanomania) shared without any credit or mention of his name, so he’s always quick to show his appreciation to those who give him a shout out. 

This approach helped the online Beanstalk fanbase flourish, but the man himself remained a mystery – no interviews, no indication of his name or age or where he’s from (although one comment concluded with certainty that, based on the references included in 2010ish, he’s definitely 28). He hadn’t appeared in any of his videos, and the only hint at his appearance was a cartoon of a guy with “Sans Beanstalk” tattooed under his eyes. An online enigma, never appearing live… until now. 

“Tues 10th December, New Cross Inn, London,” he announced on his Insta. “In a world desperately crying out for another low budget internet musician, I’m happy to step up to the mantle. In all likelihood, probably a one-off event, so let’s have a good one before we all go home for Christmas to argue with our families about scrabble or something.”

It’s a weird feeling heading to a gig knowing that it’ll be the first time the fanbase will be interacting in real life as opposed to online. One fan on Twitter summarised it perfectly: “Seeing Sans Beanstalk live tonight and have never felt more online than when I’ve tried to explain who he is/what he does to people with a regular (healthy) level of internet usage.” With everyone we spoke to in the sold out New Cross Inn, there was a shared curiosity and intrigue about the whole thing. What will Beanstalk actually look like? Will he be any good live? Will the songs work like this, or will this kill the magic?

All these concerns were quickly forgotten about once the man himself – who, shockingly, looks basically the same as that cartoon bloke on his channel – hit the stage and launched into Edgyfication. This was apparently Beanstalk’s first ever gig, but you would never have guessed it – he’d clearly been getting his reps in with the mic in preparation, nailing every line like a seasoned performer. His chemistry with DJ Standard (who doubled as hype man) brought an extra energy to the songs, and despite not having his iconic videos accompanying the lyrics, they translated perfectly to a live setting – yelling “Live, laugh, love!” or “Once a month I go Miller & Carter!” with a crowd of other weirdos is surprisingly liberating. The set was of course rounded off with Deanomania (twice for good measure) and just like that, the debut of Sans Beanstalk was over.

So how much more do we know about the man, now that he’s descended from the online realm and appeared in real life? He seemed just like any us mere humans at the gig, chatting and drinking with fans afterwards, but who knows – perhaps the suggestion that he is some kind of prophetic figure isn’t too far from the truth. Maybe Beanstalk really could be this all-knowing, all-seeing entity, whose sole purpose is to chronicle the banal experience of the British people.

After the success of the debut gig, it was no surprise to see that Beanstalk will be heading out on the Where’ve you Bean? Tour in 2025. Perhaps we’re witnessing the origins of a modern day bard, traveling the length and breadth of this fair isle and celebrating good old Blighty, in all its strange, embarrassing glory. “Sans Beanstalk has lived a 1000 lives,” hails one fan in the comment section for his track Baesic. “Unfortunately, all of them have been in England.”

Chaucer. Shakespeare. Dickens. Beanstalk.