In the darkish comedy “Based on a True Story” on Peacock, a married couple launches a real crime podcast that includes an precise serial killer. Their major competitors is a longtime podcast known as “Sisters in Crime,” whose hosts are performed by the very humorous June Diane Raphael and Jessica St. Clair.

“I’m definitely a consumer of true crime,” stated Raphael, “and that’s what the show does so well: It asks us to investigate those impulses that drive people to consume it. It’s why I wanted to do the role, because the way that these podcasts have capitalized on our fears is absolutely worthy of satire.”

A dependable comedy presence, Raphael is greatest identified for taking part in Jane Fonda’s eldest daughter on the Netflix collection “Grace and Frankie.” She additionally cowrote the screenplay for the 2009 film “Bride Wars” and co-hosts a podcast along with her husband Paul Scheer and Jason Mantzoukas known as “How Did This Get Made?” which makes an attempt to unpack motion pictures that make no sense.

When requested concerning the worst second in her profession, Raphael replied: “Being an actor is a series of humiliations. The entire job is really to embarrass ourselves and put ourselves out there, physically and emotionally, for ridicule, especially in comedy. Performing vanity-free is the goal, so there are so many stories to choose from.

“That said, there is one that comes to mind when me and Casey Wilson (with whom Raphael cowrote “Bride Wars”) bought our begin doing a sketch comedy present in New York.”

Raphael picks up the story from there.

My worst second …

“The show was at the Upright Citizens Brigade. We were fresh out of NYU and looking for a way to showcase ourselves and get agents. So we had written this sketch show where we played all these different characters.

“We were both working multiple day jobs because we didn’t get paid to do the show. But you got exposure. This is 2004 or 2005. Time Out New York gave us a glowing review and then we got an email from UCB saying that someone had reached out, named Bunny, and she wanted to speak to us about performing a paid gig on the Upper East Side.

“Now again, we’ve never been paid to perform.

“So we called her, and she had read the review and her granddaughter had seen the show and loved it — I’m clearly speaking to a much older woman — and she says, ‘I’m having a party and I would love for you to do the show there. And I’ll pay you $3,000.” Her handle was tremendous fancy and she or he appeared like she had a ton of cash — I imply, her title was Bunny — so we have been like, ‘We’ll be there!’

“We planned to do two or three sketches. We packed up our costumes. We arrived two hours early. To this day, I have never seen an apartment in New York City like this. It had multiple floors and giant ceilings. And when we walked in, they directed us to the service entrance.

“We go up a series of back stairways and are put in the room of this person named Nora, who was going to handle the technical side of our show. We had music that went with one of the sketches. So I said, ‘Can we meet Nora? I need to give her the cues, she needs to know when to press play.’

“Finally there’s a knock on the door and Nora comes in. She’s 80, if a day, and she’s in a full maid’s uniform, like she was in ‘Downton Abbey.’ She looked more ready for a sketch show than we did. And she says, ‘What can I help you with, girls?’

“So I tell her, ‘We brought our own boombox, can you press play at this certain time?’ And then I say: ‘Where is Bunny? And is she going to introduce us?’ And Nora said, ‘Hold on, I’m going to get her.’

“Now, face-lifts in the early aughts were not what they are today. And it was clear Bunny was an early adopter. So she comes in and Casey and I are trying not to react, but she had such a wild looking face. And she’s like, ‘This is going to be so much fun, I’m having a cocktail party for my friends.’

“I said, ‘How many people will be here?’ And she said, ‘Ten.’ And I said, ‘Okaaaaaay. Will you introduce us, or how do you imagine us starting the show?’ And she said, ‘I think it would be hilarious if the party’s going on and you two just start!’ And I go, ‘Ohhhh no, I think it might be really strange and confusing. Can we just say we’re sketch comedians?’ And she goes, ‘No, it’s going to be so funny to have you two just start.’ And I’m like, oh my gosh. OK.

“We’re playing little girls in our first sketch, so we’re wearing pigtails. And the sketch is about these two girls who are obsessed with ‘Les Misérables,’ which is why we needed the music. And finally, Nora comes up and says, ‘It’s time.’

“But Nora is not only responsible for wrangling talent — which is us — but she is also fully working the party. So she’s holding a tray of cocktails while she’s talking to us: ‘Go down these stairs, it’ll lead you to the living room, and just start.’

“Casey and I walk down — in character — and people were talking, mingling, going about their business. And there’s some other music being pipped in, so I’m trying to tell Nora, ‘Can you please have Bunny turn off the other music?’

“There’s no natural stage space — it made no sense — so we find a spot in the living room and start the scene. But nobody can hear because they’re talking amongst themselves. And I realize that none of the jokes in this sketch will make sense because they have not heard the setup.

“Let me tell you, the people were scared of us! These two adult women wearing pigtails and talking to each other like we’re little girls? We looked insane. So we start the sketch over and people are starting to sort of listen to us. But not one laugh. Not a single laugh. If anything, it was mild curiosity and disdain for being interrupted.

“So then it’s time for Nora to cue the music. But what Casey didn’t realize was that Nora was behind her, still holding a tray of cocktails, and trying to get by Casey, who was dancing and doing these movements. Nora would move right and Casey would move right; Nora would move left and Casey would move left. Now people start laughing hysterically and it’s because of Nora, not because of Casey. Nora is now part of our scene! Nora’s was the only comedy that worked in this scenario.

“When we were done, I heard one person clap. And then a scattering of applause.

“I was in a full-body sweat at this point; I was so nervous and so panicked about what we were doing and how humiliating it was that my body felt like it was emptying out. The end of the scene had both of us on the floor, and when we got up, I looked down and there was an outline of sweat. It was like a police outline of a body, but me and my sweat.

“Then we went back upstairs, changed into old lady costumes and came back down to do it again. And I’ll never forget walking down those stairs a second time and a man was leaning next to a giant column holding a martini, and he looks back over his shoulder and sees us, and then turns to his friend and goes, ‘Here they come again.’ (Laughs)

“Casey and I, to this day, will say that to each other: Here they come again! You don’t want us, you don’t understand us, you don’t know why we’re here — and yet we’re coming back down again. So that weirdly has become a rally cry in our career. Because if we can go through that experience again — and it was no better the second time — we truly can do anything.

“Nora came upstairs after that sketch and handed us our check and said, ‘Bunny loved it.’ And maybe Bunny did. I remember her standing by the piano watching with a wild smile on her face.

“And when we ran out, by the service entrance, of course, I was thinking: I hope to never see a single person in that room in all my days (laughs).

“But credit to Bunny, who took a chance on us. She was our first paying job! I’ll always have a special place for her in my heart for that reason.”

The takeaway …

“That idea of: Here they come again. Even when it’s abundantly clear that what you’re doing is not going well, there’s something empowering about bombing.

“Now, this wasn’t in front of millions of people. But everything we had done up to this point had been well-received, and then to have these people staring at us with fear in their eyes? I realized: Oh, you can fully bomb, to the depths of your being, and get up and keep going. That was incredibly valuable.

“That, and the check cleared.”

Nina Metz is a TV and movie critic on the Chicago Tribune, the place she writes an everyday collection, “My Worst Moment.” Actors recall their worst moments and the way their careers have been formed by them.

nmetz@chicagotribune.com