He may have swapped the brazen, youthful antics of his Popworld and Never Mind The Buzzcocks days for a more spiritually enlightened path, but don’t worry: Simon Amstell is more charmingly upbeat than ever – punctuating even his most profound statements with sudden bursts of giggles during the course of our conversation.

Following the success of his 2019 Netflix comedy special, Set Free, as well as two films, Carnage (2017) and Benjamin (2018), both of which he wrote and directed, the English stand-up is back on the road with his Spirit Hole tour. The show, which is coming to Ireland in May, is the work of a man who’s clearly spent the last number of years sharpening his emotional intelligence.

In fact, self-awareness – a skill he originally had to hone as a child – has become a key theme of his comedy.

“There’s quite a thin line between being self-conscious and self-aware,” he reflects. “I was definitely very self-conscious as a child, and incredibly shy. I wouldn’t go to many birthday parties without my mum. Or I’d go, but I’d cling to her legs the whole time that I was there. Later, when I got over the shyness, there was still a feeling of having to watch myself – probably in large part because I liked boys, and that was going to be a bit of a problem in Gants Hill, Essex, where I grew up.

“That’s one of the incredible things about being queer in any way – you end up deconstructing the culture you’re in, because that’s the only way you can feel right with yourself,” he continues. “That self-awareness is a product of having to find a way to be accepted, knowing that who I actually am was not necessarily going to be.”

These days, he’s able to view his heightened self-awareness as a blessing, but only because he’s put the work into healing himself “of all of the shame and trauma that was involved.”

“If I hadn’t found talking therapy, and magic mushrooms, then I’d probably not be able to think of it as a blessing, because I’d still be suffering from it all,” he resumes. “If I was to have a kid, I’d want them to grow up in a way that they felt like they could be entirely themselves without feeling like they need to constantly watch themselves. You want kids to feel loved, unconditionally…

“They just might not become brilliant comedians!” he laughs.

Magic mushrooms have played a crucial role on Simon’s path to contentment – which is just the sort of “hippie language” that would be considered “alien and upsetting to a lot of English people,” he says.

“There’s still a lot of people in this country who can’t talk about their feelings,” he tells me. “That’s a real problem. And the things that would be helpful, like magic mushrooms, are illegal.

“There’s all this shame that could be healed, and all this depression and anxiety that could be helped. But it won’t be, because things like magic mushrooms are not perceived to be useful. They’re perceived as something taboo and dangerous whereas the really dangerous thing is to not take magic mushrooms!”

Simon was interested in spirituality from a relatively young age, particularly after visiting Thailand, and reading the book Taming The Monkey Mind. It was his experiences with depression, however, that led him to exploring a spiritual path through the use of psychedelics.

“I heard about ayahuasca, and I got on a plane as soon as I could, to drink this plant medicine in Peru,” he recalls. “And I left without depression. I left feeling free, and strong, and excited about the future.

“The only problem for me with that, is that you can’t really recommend it to everyone,” he adds. “Because apparently it’s not for everyone. And it’s a whole business to have to get on a plane and go somewhere, and find a good shaman. So it was a real joy when I discovered magic mushrooms because they’re just growing out of the ground right here. These mushrooms even have the same kind of profound healing, if you take them in a ceremonial, ritualised way, and respect and honour what they’re capable of doing for you.”

Comedy – and particularly his own deeply confessional style of stand-up – also serves as a form of catharsis for Simon.

“Anyone who’s had any kind of therapy knows that just saying stuff you’re scared to say out loud is an incredibly healing experience,” he says. “It’s that discovery, that you’re not on your own, and you’re not the only person who’s ever felt what you’re feeling. And it’s okay to have those feelings. To do that with an audience is very exciting, because there’s laughter in the room. It feels appropriate. We’re so stupid, human beings, so that’s what we should be doing – laughing at how ridiculous we are, and then maybe making some changes.”

While some commentators fear that increasingly sensitive audiences will lead to the ‘death of comedy’, Simon, with his highly self-deprecating humour, probably doesn’t have much to worry about in that regard.

“If the joke is on me, and I’m the target, the complaints can’t really come from anywhere,” he points out. “Unless I write a letter to myself!

“I know there are kinds of comedy that people are recently finding to be upsetting, which I’ve been finding upsetting for years and years,” he adds. “But what really makes me upset is when I can see people just lying. It makes me wonder why they’re even a comedian. Because stand-up comedy is one of the few places where you can stand up and tell the truth.”

In recent years, he has also stressed the importance of addressing the climate crisis, both inside and outside of his work. He hopes that, in the future, we’ll be able to “look back and see the pandemic as this humbling experience, where people began to realise the symbiotic relationship of everything on this planet – and how, as much as we think we are, we’re not in control of everything that’s going on.”

“It’s possible that it could have been some sort of wake-up call or, it could be ignored, like every other wake-up call!” he resumes. “But since Extinction Rebellion, there is a mainstream acceptance now that we’re facing a major crisis, and something needs to be done.”

Just like in his brilliant mockumentary Carnage – in which the British youth of 2067 are appalled that their grandparents once consumed meat and animal produce – Simon figures we’ll probably be “judged quite harshly by future generations” for our crimes against the planet.

“There will be climate criminals in the future – people who were wandering around, doing what they felt was normal,” he posits. “There’ll be elderly people who have to explain themselves. They’ll say, ‘We were busy! We didn’t have time to stop the near extinction of the human race! We had jobs!’”

Although it’s likely that he’ll continue to explore themes like this through his work, it sounds like fans of his live stand-up should probably act fast...

“It’s possible that this could be my last tour in quite a while,” he reveals. “I’m shooting a film this year, and there’s a TV project that could end up happening next year, which will take up a lot of my time. But I’ll always end up doing stand-up, because it’s my way of processing what’s going on in the world, and what’s going on in my head. If I was able to do a stand-up show every few years, and write and direct a film every few years, I’d be fairly happy.”

And you won’t find him much happier than in Dublin.

“Vicar Street is actually my favourite venue,” he grins. “No, it really is! Maybe joint favourite with Largo in L.A. but I would say it’s still No.1.”