HI DANNY, you're currently in Australia with the Best Of The Edinburgh Fringe comedy tour. How's it been going?
I'm good, thanks, I'm literally just off the stage at the Garden of Unearthly Delight here in Adelaide. It's the first of nine shows I'm doing this week. It's a nice break from my solo tour, but at the same time I'm kind of itching to get back to it too.
You launched Lock-In at the Edinburgh Festival last year – how has it being going so far?
It's been flying, I think the first chunk of this tour has nearly sold more than all of last year's! So it was a really great start, really strong, then I'm out here for five weeks before hitting the ground running again from March to May. After that it's actually going to Asia for a month as well.
As the title suggests, there's a 'prison' theme to the new show. What were you 'in' for, then?
Essentially, I got booked for one prison gig [at Dublin's Mountjoy]. Then, when I got booked for the first prison, another prison [Wheatfield] got in touch and said 'we heard you're doing a prison gig – do you want to come and do one for us?' So I hadn't even done one yet but I was being treated like some sort of old 'prison pro'!
I used to be a social care worker, so I thought it wouldn't be a million miles away from working with people like I'd worked with before and also it would be something a little bit new as well.
Were the prisoners a tough crowd?
Well, I went to do one of the shows and was immediately asked to pack up and leave because there'd been a stabbing. They had a bit of a stand-off out in the yard for about six hours, so we had to leave and come back and do it a few weeks later instead.
There were also a couple of things I was told I wasn't allowed to bring up: I wasn't allowed to ask anyone what they were in for and I was told that under no circumstances was I to mention either of the two prominent crime gangs who are at war with each other in Dublin at the moment.
One of the things I did do was ask prisoners where they were from. They'd tell me and there would be a bit of slagging going in-between them all about it, which then became a bit of craic.
It was a bit like that "oh, we've got the culchies in tonight" thing that goes on when you do the same at [Dublin comedy club] The Laughter Lounge or wherever, which was a bit weird!
You used to be a social worker – how did you manage to combine that with your stand-up career?
When I was starting off in comedy I did some drama workshops in youth services, like stand-up and improv games and that kind of craic. Then I transitioned into homeless and addiction services in one of the 'highest need' areas of Dublin. I actually got the job by accident: I went for an interview for another role in residential care because it would mean I'd have more time to do comedy.
But it ended up that I was doing 13-hour shifts dealing with extreme addiction and mental health issues, then I'd finish and go straight to The Laughter Lounge and be on stage 20 minutes later.
Not exactly fertile ground for gags, then?
We were dealing with suicides, overdoses – as bad as it gets. I had to stop telling people what was going on at work. I remember telling my mum and my granny some stuff that happened that wasn't even the worst and they were absolutely horrified. When you work in that kind of environment, you kind of forget how horrendous some of the scenarios can be.
When I got my first Best Of The Fringe tour three years ago, I left social care completely – and it was only when I came out [to Australia] that I had a bit of time to think and reflect on how hectic it was.
Working in a real job like that really makes you appreciate comedy. And it definitely prepared me for the prison shows, because it was literally the same issues just in a different environment.
Lock-In also refers to the night you opened for one of your comedy heroes, Bill Burr, in Dublin. What happened?
That was the gig of a lifetime. It was the night before the second prison gig and I hadn't been drinking for about a month or so, but after the show we ended up at three different lock-ins – and then I had to go and do a prison gig on one of the hottest days of the year. It was absolutely horrific.
So you were out on the lash with Bill?
Yeah! He was an absolute gent and he gave me a really sound quote as well ["He opened for me at the 3Arena and f***ing murdered it!"].
I've been following him since before I think he even did stand-up. I tried to be really cool when I got the call to open for him, but inside I was going 'Jesus Christ!'
What other stuff are you touching upon in the new show?
It gets into a slightly more personal angle around remorse and stuff like that at the end. I kept getting people asking me "Did the prisoners have remorse?" and "Did you not find it quite grim gigging in prisons?" but I'm just going, like, 'renting in Dublin is grim' and, for the most part, comedy can be very, very grim.
Like when you're at a petrol station at two in the morning after having an alright show, and you've to drive three hours home eating your chicken and stuffing sandwich. There's a lot of reflection time.
When you've a bad gig, you've nothing but time to think about why it was bad, what you should have done and all the mistakes you made. I suppose it's very relevant to prison in a lot of ways.
:: Danny O'Brien, with William Thompson March 21, The Speakeasy, Belfast / March 22, Bogan's, Omagh. Tickets and full tour info via Dannyobriencomedy.com
