Last tuesday night ITV broadcast "Dara O Briain's Tough Gig" in which I spent a weekend with the Live Action Role Players of Skullduggery in Canterbury.

Some insider telly stuff: The total viewing figures for the show were 902,000, which is sort of low for that time of night, even if it was up against Big Brother. It's less than half of a episode of Mock The Week and less than a quarter of the figures for when I was on Parky a couple of weeks ago. In fact, they're the kind of figures that get quoted when people talk about the decline of ITV and compare "Dara o Briain's Tough Gig" to the "Morecambe and Wise 1976 Christmas special" or something.

In telly terms, no fucker watched it.

But bizarrely, every fucker seems to have seen it.

I've spent the last week talking about to people about my time in the forest, foam weaponry, drinking mead and more often than not, those bloody ears. Apparently they were a complete victory style-wise. they may have been the equivalent of Kate Moss walking through the mud in her designer wellies during the last Glastonbury.

However i'm not sure if I'm putting the ears on the map or if the ears are doing it for me.

If you haven't seen the show, I've put some of the gig on the page for your delectation, from a clip that i think the telly company slid out onto Youtube. The entire show might appear there soon. If it does, i'll stick a link on to it.

Big thanks to all the LARPers then, for hosting a brilliant weekend and being so generous when they must have thought we were going to do some sort of hatchet job on them. No chance. Like I said on the film, they're my kind of nerds..

 

 

Amidst all the news about Mock the Week (below) a quick mention about my first love, The Panel.
The pre-election series is in full flow, and you'll have noticed that I haven't been there. A sort-of principled decision, given that I've been living out of the country for a few years now and even my vote is registered in the UK, so I felt it might be a bit cheeky to fly in and lead a political discussion in the run-in to an election I have no investment in, and am not around to follow day-to-day or live with the consequences of.
Terrible grammar, but i'm sure you get the point.
A gift for the Irish in my absence then (you'd have to be Irish to get this, I think)
On my regularly graffitied wikipedia biog, someone has recently added:

"At college gigs, Dara is often greeted with the chant "Ooh Aah, up Dara""

I told you only the Irish would get it. Now let's see how long it stays up...

With remarkable timing, BBC 2's some loved topical panel show returns this summer, just in time to miss Tony Blair's handover of power.
From July 12th, and for twelve whole weeks, we'll be returning with the usual sniping and bunfighting and not letting each other speak and all the stuff you've been missing in the few scant months since we were last allowed on to the air.
No word on line-ups yet, but it's unlikely the producers have gone off anyone in the last while, barring romantic misadventure, but I can report, that in a controversial move, the opening monologue has been ditched in favour of cutting to the action fast, and because it was always a chore to write when I'd sooner just be messing around during the game instead and not preparing shit all day.
Anyway, details will follow. The point is.. We're back. soon. ish.

It's always a relief to get past March 17th. Always.
Don't get me wrong. I like a weekend's boozing as much as the next man. (And in London we get the day itself, plus the nearest Sunday. It's a double whammy.)
I also like an afternoon spent watching some sporting dramas unfold. (When I lived in Dublin it used to mean going to Croke Park to watch the All-Ireland Club Finals; these days, of course, it's - Jesus wept! Who saw this coming?– the emerging Irish cricket team.)
I also also like spending time in the company of my fellow gaels making conversation dense in references and allusions our friends from around the world will never get. (That's not as impressive as it sounds – "D'ya remember tayto? I do! D'ya remember Bosco? I do ! Imagine what bosco would look like eatin' tayto! Mad!")
I just find the whole week leading up to it more and more claustrophobic, as well-meaning punters suddenly start to address me solely in terms of the three facts they have in their head about Ireland, three facts that, as time goes by, obviously bear less and less relevance to the Ireland I'm from.
For example, if one more fucker asks me if I'm enjoying the Cheltenham festival…
It's not a rude question, of course, but you won't believe the reaction if you say no. Particularly if you then explain that loads of Irish people don't actually give that much of a fuck about Horse Racing. (And they don't; I've told stories onstage about horse racing to Irish crowds. Blank faces all around. Per capita, we gamble less than the English).
I'm telling you, I have almost been assaulted for saying that lots of Irish people don't care that much about the horses. By English people, this is. Assaulted. I've had people roaring "of course you love horse racing", and no amount of patiently explaining that I grew up in a commuter belt suburban town, a long way from horses of any kind, just like they did, seems to get through to them. It's just hardwired into their brains.
And it's a week of that.
I suppose you'll be watcing the horse racing? Well, er, …
I suppose you'll be knocking back the Guinness this weekend? Actually, um… I don't really like the taste of.. eh…
That Rugby team of yours, eh? I know, they're great, but I don't really understand the game because I didn't go to one of the twelve schools that play it in Leinster and so… oh fuck, I give up…
The English are always going about identity, and how they need one. Take it from us, everyone has an image of "irish identity" and, at times, it's flung at us like a strait-jacket.
p.s. All of this doesn't explain how I ended up last Sunday afternoon on the stage in Trafalgar square, in front of 20,000 people, doing an Irish dance while holding a pint of Guinness.

The BBC are proudly broadcasting one of our, by now legendary, bunged-together out of the scrag ends, Best-of/unseen bits/compilation shows of the last series.
It's on, on Monday February 19th on BBC2 at 10pm.

We've only ever made 26 shows of Mock The Week and 4 of them have been Best-of/unseen bits/compilations. We are, officially, the most self-mythologising show in television history. Plus, each recording goes on for about 2 and a half hours, so there's always loads of extra bits.
Mind you, you'll never get to see everything. Somewhere, hidden in a vault is a fifteen minute round we call "the legendary Anal Lube" round, where the entire panel just made jokes about anal lube. And Cherie Blair. And got the fit of the giggles while the producers kept screaming at me to steer it back to the week's news. It has never been broadcast.
Maybe we'll slide it out on Youtube someday…

My animosity towards La Keith is well chronicled, having now insulted her on Friday Night with Johnathan Ross, Des and Mel, The Panel and, (somethimg of which I'm deeply proud) put her into Room 101 (plus sawing her in half).

I have occasionally had reviews that questioned me doing material about McKeith, as if it's an easy target, just to parody some telly show. That's always missed the point.
As I've taken to saying onstage, the woman makes millions of pounds a year, through a combination of bullying fat people and offering nutrition advice with questionable scientific merit, while calling herself a doctor on the basis of a non-peer-reviewed PhD from a correspondance course from a non-accredited university in Alabama.
Can't put it better than that, really.

You can imagine my joy then at the story in the Guardian yesterday:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/food/Story/0,,2011095,00.html

She has sidestepped a fuller investigation, and she is still calling herself Dr. on her website, and she will continue to make millions, but still... That is very embarassing, isn't it, Gill?
There's a fuller description of the story, with reaction and context, from the source of it all, Ben Goldacre's site

www.badscience.net

which also includes a link to Ben's appearance on The Panel in Dublin a couple of weeks ago.
In fact, the entire archive of the last series of the Panel was available online, (not sure if it is any more) so you can see our secret, devious pro-science, pro-rational thought agenda come through with guests like Dr Ian Robertson, Heston Blumenthal and Prof Richard Dawkins.
We're just a big bunch of nerds really…

last week I did an interview for the definitive british comedy website www. chortle.co.uk
They submitted the questions, I did the answers - here are the more interesting ones...

Just how annoyed are you about the constant mispronunciation of your name? Have you considered changing it yet? - Louise Lee

Darby Brown, Dazzy B, Dusky Benderson... Don't think that I don't spend all day running through the incredible showbiz career I might have if I just ditched my own name.
Right now, I think, I'm most often referred to as "That Irish guy - no not that one, the other one, the one who did Have I Got News" which works a lot of the time, but would look hideous on a poster.
Really, changing your name is about timing. Now would be way too late, and just confuse people, but any earlier would have been arsishly presumptious. "Someday, I will be enormously famous and people will chant my name, and I shall make it easier for the people, for I shall be known as... Ditzy Boomhaha"
No, I'm stuck with the real name. And while I would be at least 37% more famous if my name was something like Jack Dee or Jo Brand (or practically anyone else apart from Omid, really), Dara is who I am (violins rise and Hershel Krustovsky hugs his father).
As for the pronunciation, I'm flattered tthat people make the effort to get it right over here. The UK being as multicultural as it is, people always make the effort, and I thank them for that.
In case I come across as too humble about this, though; in Ireland, where studying the Irish language is compulsory and public life is filled with people called O hEochagain and Seoighe and the like, people get it wrong constantly and to my face and it drives me up the fucking wall. I mean constantly. And unapologetically. Someday I will be dragged off some taxi driver screaming "What's my name, Motherfucker? What's my name? Say O'Brien just one more time..."


What were the circumstances leading up to your first ever gig? -Yad Barzinji

Some friends set up a comedy/variety/arts club in Dublin, in a reastaurant called Chubangs (don't look it up, it got shut down for having a toilet that opened into the kitchen).
The nights were a weird mix of aspiring comics (including Jason Byrne, not the night I was on) singer-songwriters and poerformance artists (including one who arrived wrapped entirely in tinfoil, hopping down the street .. not Jason Byrne). I nervously walked around for four hours before the gig, which lasted for all of 4 minutes, with me holding the microphone stand nervously for the length of it.
History doesn't recall any of the jokes, apart from something to do with mixing up US senator Bruce Morrison and Iron Maiden lead singer Bruce Dickinson, to hilarious effect. It..s a piece of material I have since "rested".


Which comedians have most influenced your act over the years? Who really makes you laugh? -Nick

At the start I was practically an Eddie izzard tribute band, because his videos were the greatest things I had ever seen. I still do too much Umming and ehhing, but that's just me now, and my own silly verbal tics, rather than any fault of Eddie's. More recently, Lewis Black does this explosion-of-anger thing which I may have nicked as well.
Loads of comics make me laugh. Bill Bailey, Rich Hall, all the usual greats. One you might not know: Dave Atell, whose CD "Skanks for the memories" is all gold, baby.


Do you think it's possible to make a living doing stand up in Ireland or is moving to London the only serious option? -Terry Frisby

Obviously enough, there will always be more gigs in the UK than in Ireland; which is the incredible opportunity to learn the trade, day in, day out, that the circuit gives you here. Plus the fact that London is one of the great world centres of comedy with so many incredible people to work with. Don't forget that we get all your telly as well as our own, so that Chris Morris and Stephen Fry, say, mean as much to us as they do to you.
I couldn't resist the chance to move when it came up five years ago. But is it necessary? Not really. Ireland is small but comedy fans there are numerous, devoted and enthusiastic.
Irish audiences will come out for their own, in an enormous way. Loads of theatres full and big DVD sales and whereas, previously, the Irish broadcaster RTE was given lots of hassle about not using local talent, there are now lots of opportunities to get on the telly at home if you're a comic.
If you're Tommy Tiernan, who is revered in Ireland (and rightly so) then you can make a living in the way that, say, Little Britain, makes a living (y'know, maybe enough to put a little deposit on a house, go for a nice meal out now and again, that sot of thing).
And there are a number of acts with huge theatre tours and DVDs and telly shows doing very well in Ireland, thank you very much, with no need to drag their arses around the circuit here for Christ knows how long to get to something even approaching that same level of recognition and success. And good for them.


What are the main differences between playing to a TV audience and doing a regular stand-up gig; and are any aspects/differences frustrating? -Adam Samuels

Telly studios are not "your crowd", and you can't relax with them as much as can a theatre crowd. There's loads going on, with the cameras and the lights and all so the environment is unnatural. It's not just you either, especially on the sort of shows I do, so there's always a few other voices coming in.
You have more control in a proper gig, because it's just you and you edit in your own head as you go along. In a studio however you have a whole support team, often including writers and the inherent "glamour" of the situation.
In a live gig you talk to the audience directly, whereas in a telly environment you're often performing "side-on", like when you tell jokes to a chat show host but really want the crowd over your shoulder to supply the laughs.
Very different environments requiring different sorts of skills then.
One big difference though. Do nothing but live stand-up and you'll transfer to a telly studio pretty easily.
Do nothing but telly studios and you'll pretty much die on your arse live.


When last did you tickle an old person? -Graham Brechin

Interestingly, people don't generally tickle older people, tickling works downwards in age and status only. Although you can tickle monkeys and rats. But not yourself, because you can't surprise yourself. All this I learnt from "Laughter" a book by psychologist Robert Provine, which I heartily recommend for silly bits of trivia like that.
I myself am quite ticklish, and have been tickled a number of time both in public and onscreen by Ed Byrne who knows how ticklish I am. I often wish he would fuck off and stop doing that, the prick.


What did you think of the rumour about you that was created during Mark Watson's 36 Hour Show? -Ben Williams

This was the rumour that Lucy Porter punched me so hard, I fell backwards and seriously damaged my knee, the rumour that found it..s way onto at least one comedy website of record and my Wikipedia entry?
Yeah, not bad, but it..s still got some way to go before it beats the IMDB biog which included "Dara collects vintage Coca-Cola cans" and "Dara flies Aer Lingus for free" . I have been asked about them in at least 15 separate interviews in the last year, and at stage at least one of these facts turned up somehow in MY OWN PRESS RELEASE.
Now, that's a rumour.


Dara O'Briain, your name is an anagram of "I doin' an Arab", have you ever had sex with someone from the Middle East?
Adam Haycroft

Doing a quick headcount now... No.
My name is also an anagram of "IRA brain D.O.A" which is actually the name of a top quality eighties thriller starring Richard Gere as the MI6 man forced to live in the mind of a vegetablised Provo bomber in order to save the kidnapped secret daughter of Princess Di.
The Clock is ticking!
It's Face Off! Meets Blown Away!
It's IRA Brain D.O.A.!

Offered almost entirely without comment, a letter that was sent to my agent after the gig in Yeovil a week ago. It was the last night of the tour and we arrived a little early and I went wandering to kill some time. Normally we arrive in town just as the shops are closing, and it's like a ghost town and very depressing, however the good Yeovillians were all out for the big switching on of the Christmas lights and there was a great mood in the place. One shop had a large ring of security guards around it and I went and asked who was so important that they needed all the security.
And then I went and did the show. A week later we received this brilliant e-mail (great e-mail address too, given his occupation, it starts simoneyeman@....), and a very kind offer.



From: Simon Frackiewicz
Date: Mon, 20 Nov 2006 18:44:01 -0000
Subject: Dara O'Briain

Hi Caroline,

I was hoping to pass a message of thanks to Dara following his recent
stand-up show in Yeovil, Somerset. Whilst on his pre-show walkabout, he
happened to pass by my company, Robert Frith Optometrists, where the local
football team, Yeovil Town, were having a photoshoot to publicise our
becoming their official opticians. Unfortunately, I was unable to attend
his show myself, however I later learnt from a number of my staff and
patients that this is something Dara picked up on and mentioned several
times during his show. Being a small town, such publicity is of great
value, and I simply wished to pass on my gratitude for having increased the
awareness of our independent opticians. In the event that Dara should find
himself in the West Country again, I would be delighted to offer him a
complimentary eye examination by way of thanks.

With kind regards

Simon Frackiewicz


Have I said this before? I LOVE MY JOB...

I love Bristol but a monday night in a rock auditorium would be no-one's idea of comedy gold. Sadly the city doesn't have a mid-sized theatre so we all bundled into the Colston hall, which is a rock venue (previous night: The Raconteurs. They only did an hour. Pussies).
The night was lifted by the first audience member, Kevin who had a cast on one arm. I don't usually go after people with injury, because well, duhhh.. you just need one "we came out tonight to forget the accident" and you'll never talk to an audience member again.
Still, Kevin seemed like a nice sort. How did you break your arm, Kevin?
"It happened in a dispute with a noisy neighbour"
Oh. and is the neighbour still noisy?
"No"
Let's move on..

Here's a lovely fellow with his daughter, what do you do?
(A Note about audience interaction. Asking people where they're from and what they do seems the most predictable thing in the world, but tell me: what else do you start with when you meet a stranger? Or better yet, imagine meeting someone and them turning and and saying "No. Tell me nothing of your background, nor anything of your chosen career. Instead: Pick a number bewteen one and eight."
You'd move away pretty fucking sharpish.)
(Another note about audience interaction. I can chat with people about most careers now, but for the best response from the audience you need a job everyone can picture. Database purchasing manager is a pain in the arse. Doctor/plumber/barber/whatever, these are all great. Basically, if you have a job that might appear in a Richard Scarry book called "things we make and do" then please come and sit in my front row...)

"So what do you do for a living, man in the front row?"
"I'm a tile inspector"
"Thank you very much"
Joy ensues...

After a surprisingly good night's sleep in a grimsby hotel, we cross Lincolnshire, enter Norfolk and alight in the ancient market town of Kings Lynn..

(Ah, travel writing. The final destination of many a comedy career. Better get some practise in now, I suppose)

The Kings Lynn theatre is in a Corn Exchange, buildings that in Cambridge and Ipswich in particular, are a fucking nightmare. Great for the exchange of corn, but not build for stand-up.
They've done a great job on this one though, although the crowd still had that midweek tendency to go HA Ha Ha and then SILENCE as they waited for the next joke.
Bizarrely the most popular audience member (getting a huge unsolicited cheer from the crowd) was the operations manager from a sugar factory. Clearly the people of Kings lynn appreciate the everyday miracle of beet to grain.
Me, i liked the guy who did marketing to pigs. That wasn't really his job, but his description was so long and technical that i just decided to take the words "marketing" and "pigs" out of it and run with that idea instead. Luckily we had met another man who installed ATMs for a living (who got no cheer from the crowd - more of a sugar place, Kings lynn) - and so the issue of how to get disposable cash to pigs was quickly solved.

The National traits game had a couple of good answers too. This is the part of the show, where to enormous satirical effect I utterly demolish the notion of prejudice, by simply getting audience members to pick two personality traits off the top of their heads and then we attach them to a random, and obscure, far-away country. Then I act it the result out in a hammy way. And then we all go home and vow never to hate again, or something.
Thus tonight we learnt that the people of Albania are Well-hung and Romantic and that the Peruvians are Greasy and Cantankerous.
Random highlights from the tour include:
The Bhutanese are Impatient and argumentative (swansea)
The Uzbekistani are Rich and Gormless (Weston-Super-Mare)
The Patagonians are Glamorous and Aloof (Northampton)
The Micronesians are Fractious (Sailsbury)
The Azerbaijanis are Crazy and Bouncy (Birmingham)
The Bhutanese are Happy and Unwashed (Weston-Super-Mare)
The People of Equatorial Guinea are Delightful (Dublin)

And my personal favourite, from Aberystwyth:
The people of Fiji are Well-read and Promiscuous