IT DEPENDS on what you mean by insane, really. I ve set fire to my pubic hair, obviously. It was at University years ago and they weren t really listening . . .
Phil Kay s blithe recollection of the glorious occasion of his pubic burning speaks volumes. It s neither a boast nor a regret, it s a statement of fact. He was doing a gig, the audience wasn t listening, so he set alight his pubic hair. As you do.
But that s, like, common-or-garden crazy really, isn t it? muses the softly spoken 28-year-old Scot, struggling to remember the most loony thing he s ever done on stage. I think it would be quite crazy to go out, stand there and say nothing for a minute or two, but even that s only Grade II. I mean, in the course of six or seven years I ve done lots and lots of outrageous things, but to be honest, I can t remember any of them.
You d understand it if he was a barrister or a Christian Brother, but for a highly respected comedian, Phil Kay seems to hold his profession in snake-belly low esteem. He never goes to gigs unless he s performing at them, and it seems that he never performs at them unless he s either doing a favour for a friend, doing something which interests him, or in dire need of the money. He is, in fact, bone idle.
Such is his laziness that when I ask him to tell me about his local comedy scene, he mutters something about there being three or four small clubs that he rarely, if ever, plays at. He doesn t know how they stay open, he confesses, and one is left with the distinct impression that he cares not a whit either. When I ask him why, his reply is nothing if not succinct.
I can t be bothered, really, he laughs.
This not being the most Amish work ethic I ve ever encountered in a stand-up comic, I ask Phil to elaborate on his notorious and mightily impressive lack of enthusiasm for the glare of the spotlight and the roar of the crowd.
Well, in a strange way my unenthusiasm for comedy is quite enthusiastic, he begins ambiguously. Basically I did a big amount of work in the last 18 months so I d be able to stay at home with my kid. Thankfully, I ve managed to do that, which I think I m very lucky to do.
It s like the way Cantona was unhappy at Manchester United, or something. I m still into the whole idea of what I do, but sometimes I look around and it s all a bit weird y know. So I look for things that are a bit more exciting, like gigs in Paris which I m doing, or gigs in America or Australia or Dublin. I need things that keep me excited, and that doesn t include a room over a pub with four comics and a compere where everyone s talking about similar things and nobody s revealing anything of themselves
Self-revelation has never been a problem for Phil Kay. In more sombre moments, when he s not arson around, he s been known to compere gigs with his trousers around his ankles, as he did one night at Late N Live this year, in Edinburgh s Gilded Balloon. Later that evening he went on to perform for over 20 minutes to no audience.
Well, y see, performing to no people is interesting! he exclaims triumphantly. I don t like the idea of stopping when people expect me to stop. Often I m too embarrassed to perform in a comedy environment, so I find that I m actually better if I keep going throughout the interval, or after the show when everyone is gone home. Everybody knows you can come on and talk funny stuff for twenty minutes, but they ll always be quite impressed if they re leaving and you re doing something really well. So, at that point I probably just thought I hadn t done enough funny stuff, so I just continued and got funnier, even though there was nobody there.
Talk turns to falling trees and forests with nobody in them. How can Phil tell he s being funny if there s nobody in the room to see him do his act?
I think you ve hit on something there, he laughs. I think you ve hit on absolutely the best thing! No-one ever uses metaphors trying to answer that question about the tree falling in the forest when there s nobody there. Maybe it proves that it does make a noise, because in the comedy situation you do make things good. I ve done gigs where people were laughing but I ve felt shit about it, and then I ve done gigs where no-one s laughing and I feel great. The point is that the funniness exists inside your head!
Therein lies the secret of Phil Kay s success. Such is his unshakeable confidence in the funniness within, that once he has consciously created a feelgood factor for his audience, the rest of his act is effortless. On the rare occasions when people don t laugh, it s not because Phil isn t being funny, it s because they don t share his sense of the absurd Such profundity, it seems, also extends to his political beliefs.
I don t really believe in the politicians we have, he reveals. I m not really political that way. I mean, I voted Green in the last election, but I think it s all about personal ideals and personal ideologies, and how you deal with people, and how you talk, and how you listen rather than what party you vote for. I mean I can t vote for Tony Blair. I ve no faith in him at all because he s in a system which I don t like. I suppose I m more of an anarchist really.
What about the Tories?
Oh my God no! Poor sods, though, what a shame, he expounds without a trace of irony. The thing about them is that they see themselves as another option but they re not. They re just a completely outdated mode of thought. They re a type of personality that isn t very positive or beneficial I feel very sorry for them.
So what did Phil make of the recent handshake between Tony Blair and Gerry Adams?
I don t think there s anything wrong with shaking hands with anyone, he opines. You know how you feel about them and that s it. But just for Tony Blair to do it like he did . . . that was silly, doing it and then going down the street and getting barracked. But if you look at Tony Blair s face, his smile is not a happy one. He s sweating a lot, and he s clearly in above his head. He s not quite sure what he s doing and it s a bit of a shame.
This tolerant attitude would suggest that Phil would be prepared to shake hands with anyone. Is this the case? As a father, would he happily shake the hand of a known paedophile?
Yeah, I probably would, he nods. That s the only first step towards a better thing. You can t not. At least if you shake hands with someone it s possible for them to feel warmth and forgiveness. Sadly, there s a big difference between what Gerry Adams is doing, which is a lot more calculated, and a paedophile, which is often more insanity-based and loneliness-based and lack-of-love-based.
Later in the interview, as Phil describes his daily routine ( up early, walking the dogs, cycling, cooking, driving, visiting my mum, going to the country to have fun, coming back, cooking, getting baby washed, getting baby to bed, writing, reading, playing guitar, watching films . . . ) it occurs to me that I am talking to perhaps one of the happiest, most contented people I have ever met. Am I?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, he admits. I mean, I have the inner turmoil of having a brain and being alive, and having a consciousness that does wonder every now and then, but ultimately, yeah, I m a very happy man. Definitely, yeah. n
Phil Kay presents Phil Kay Feels . . . at The Funnel Bar, City Quay, Dublin, on Fri 31st Oct and Sat 1st November with special guests John Henderson & Eddie Bannon. Doors: 8:30pm