It was while he was writing his latest Edinburgh show that Frank Skinner noticed a problem with his brain. He was hoping to perform a “cleaner, cleverer” kind of act, one that would let him look out at the crowd and – perhaps for the first time in his life – not see anybody squirming in their seat in discomfort.
“It was a struggle,” the 65-year-old says with a grin, “because I realised that I seem to think in knob jokes. And I have done since I was about 13. In the West Midlands, that was how people communicated!”
