How did you get your start in standup?
I did work experience at a radio station when I was in college. The breakfast DJ was Bernard O’Shea, a big comedian in Ireland. He told me I should try standup because I was always joking around in the office, but I ignored him. Then he booked a gig [for me] to MC and I had two weeks to prepare. The piece of advice he gave me was to write five minutes, start with what you think is your strongest joke and end with your second strongest, whatever you’re not sure about, put it in the middle. I just had these long anecdotes about my granny. I’d never had that feeling of adrenaline before and I’m constantly chasing that.
Who inspired you when you were first starting out?
I remember watching Ava Vidal on TV and thought she was very funny. When I went to college, a guy in my class who was into standup made me a mixtape of comedy which had Chris Rock and Maria Bamford who was the greatest thing I’d ever heard in my life.
Can you recall a gig so bad, it’s now funny?
It was on an island off the coast of Ireland. You had to take a boat for four hours to get there. There were about eight people in the audience and half of them were teenagers. Instead of laughter I heard someone muttering “Jesus Christ”. It took me about 20 minutes to get through an hour of material. I ran off stage and started crying. The owner came and said “Alison, I’ve paid you for an hour, you need to do an hour. Also, your mother is here.” She had decided to surprise me and I annihilated myself in front of her. Can you think of the deepest, darkest, most shameful thing you have done, then imagine your mother watching on, questioning your life choices?
And a gig so good, it will always stay with you?
The first night of my last tour, called Wet, was at Monkey Barrel in Edinburgh. The show is supposed to be 55 minutes and I ended up doing an hour and 20. I didn’t change any of the material, it was just the laughs. I even feel embarrassed saying it, but I had a really great time and I felt I was in a state of flow. It’s very hard to describe stuff you like about standup comedy without sounding like a fecking vape wanker that talks about the spirit of the shaman …
Best heckle?
I wear quite bright clothes, so I’ve always been used to heckles. The thing for me with standup, and why I loved it when I first started, was I have an absolute feeling of authority and safety. Being up on stage just felt like home. Someone once told me: the audience are always on your side every time someone heckles you. They want to see how you deal with it, it’s not an argument between two equal forces.
What’s you upcoming show, Soup, about?
I got diagnosed with CPTSD [complex post-traumatic stress disorder], which is PTSD with a C before it, which I presume stands for Cool because only cool people get it. The show looks at how you deal with trauma through standup and how the cost of living affects mental health. There’s one thing worse than being mentally ill, and that’s being poor and mentally ill. But it is funny, I promise! They say that some comedians use standup for therapy and I think I did for a while. Now I’m trying to approach comedy after getting therapy. The show is also a bit about soup.
What makes a good soup?
The wonderful thing about soup is that there are so many – and every country has a national soup. If you’re making yours at home, it’s important to cook every component down, it can be tempting just to blend it and think it’ll all be fine in the soup but you can taste that. Flavour is important. Season at every stage!
What’s the best advice you wish to dispense?
It feels nicer to be happier for someone than to be jealous of them – and it takes up way less energy. I kind of believe in fairies. In Ireland they have these things called fairy forts which are supposed to be the entry and exit point for fairies going into the human world. I know a billionaire built a hotel on top of one of them and then the Irish economy crashed. So I don’t believe it but I kind of believe it. It’s not karma, but if you can genuinely feel happy for someone, I think you’ll feel happier for yourself that you’ve grown.
Alison Spittle: Soup is at Monkey Barrel, Edinburgh, 2-27 August
