Comedian Rob Copland is sipping a pint of Guinness as I arrive at a cosy pub near his south London flat. There’s a fire crackling in the corner, fairy lights twinkling and a little brown puppy called Pancake curled up by his feet, nibbling a carrot.
The peaceful scene couldn’t be further from his comedy, where every performance is an explosion of energy, with Copland dancing, clapping, leaping on to chairs and whipping audiences into hysterics. He once traversed a room upside down via a steel beam, delivering jokes as he went. He must be one of the only standups to regularly sustain onstage injuries, including neck damage from head-banging too hard during his debut show Mainstream Muck (where he created a comedy moshpit), and toe pain from bouncing around the stage.
