How did you get into comedy?
I did my first gig at the Dog & Parrot in Newcastle in 2007. I was a jittery first year student and figured that doing standup would trick people into thinking I’m more interesting than I am. Looking back I’m amazed that grubby dimwit had it in him, but I’m glad he did.
You do a lot of observational comedy. Where do you find material?
Usually I take long walks and glare at the public.
What’s been one of your all-time favourite gigs?
There was an open spot in Tunbridge Wells when I was quite new. I was the only unpaid act on a lineup of grizzled pros and we all had a nice chat before about how badly I would inevitably do. I shuffled on in the middle with my head down and my opening line got a laugh so gargantuan I suspected my trousers must have had fallen down. Then I said something else and they all laughed at that as well. It was the first night where everything went right and becoming a comedian actually felt plausible.
What’s an important lesson you’ve learned from being a standup?
On a practical level I’ve learned that if you want a double seat to yourself on a coach then sit near the front as people will instinctively walk towards the back as they get on. On a spiritual level I’ve learned that all ages, genders, nationalities and sexualities laugh at the same old bollocks so maybe we’re not as divided as it seems.
What’s your show, White Elephant, about?
It’s a bunch of jokes about being young, not-so-young, love, success, failure and the broad indignity of 21st-century life. Also there’s some showbiz anecdotes and a bit about guide dogs which is really flying.
What was it like being Ricky Gervais’s support act at the Hollywood Bowl?
I don’t know where to begin. The dressing room was bigger than my flat and the stage is so vast it took me 20 seconds to reach the microphone after my name was called. There’s 17,000 people in the crowd and it’s open air so I could hear my voice ricocheting around the valley. I just tried to focus on my jokes but it was difficult because Dave Grohl was in the front row staring right at me. It felt like walking on Mars or something, but I’m pretty sure I had a good one. The next night I did a show in the back of a magic club and died as hard as I have in years. Swings and roundabouts.
Best heckle?
Heckling is pointless. If anyone is going to ruin my audience’s night, it should be me.
Can you recall a gig so bad it’s now funny?
I once hosted a “comedy and poetry” show at a university’s summer ball. The show started at midnight and the lineup was myself and five poets. I did some passable crowd work at the top and brought on the first poet who launched into a truly horrible piece called Instant Rigor Mortis. The drunk students understandably started to leave in droves but I was obliged to go onstage and introduce poet after poet, each more solemn than the last. There were 300 people in the audience when the show started and less than 10 by the time it ended.
Any preshow rituals?
I drink water and read QPR forums.
Best advice you’ve ever been given?
I filmed my episode of Live at the Apollo three days after the Queen died and was advised to cut my routine about how batshit the monarchy is. Guess I’ll save it for the Royal Variety show.
And the worst?
“The only thing that you should care about is getting on a panel show” was said to me more recently than you’d think.
Do you have any regrets?
I wish I’d spent less of my 20s alone. Isolation is an occupational hazard for someone who wants to pursue standup and if you’re not careful it will send you nuts. I’m grateful to have spent much more time with friends and family in my 30s.
What are you most excited about right now?
As soon as I finish answering these questions my wife and I are going to eat curry and watch an episode of Monk. That exciting enough for you?
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Sean McLoughlin: White Elephant is on tour from 21 February