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  • John Bishop: interview

  • By Time Out editors

  • Time Out's comedy editor Tim Arthur overlooks his Chelsea allegiance to visit Anfield with John Bishop, a scouser who turned his back on corporate success to be a stand-up comic

    John Bishop: interview

    An intense John Bishop in the Kop willing Liverpool to score ©Tim Arthur

  • I am in the front seat of a car being given a whistlestop tour of Liverpool, the European Capital of Culture 2008.

    ‘This is the famous Penny Lane,’ comedian and my tour guide for the day, John Bishop explains. ‘And over that way is Strawberry Fields.’

    So this is the actual Penny Lane?

    ‘It is. Not that you’d know it though. As soon as they put up a street sign someone pinches it.’

    ‘There’s one, dad,’ John’s nine-year-old son Dan pipes up from the back seat. He’s right. There is indeed a shiny new sign near the end of the road. ‘Don’t worry Dan, we’ll come back later with an angle grinder and get it,’ John’s father Ernie chips in.
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    I have been allowed to crash the weekly family pilgrimage to watch Liverpool FC play at Anfield. Next stop is a quick trip up the monolithic Radio City Tower in the city centre. From here we can see right across the city, down to the Liver Birds and on to the Irish Sea.

    ‘That’s the docks down there. Me dad used to be a docker, didn’t you dad?’ John asks rhetorically.

    ‘No, I didn’t. I didn’t work on the docks. I used to work on the tug boats, guiding the ships into the docks.’

    ‘So you weren’t a docker, you were a tugger?’ John asks with a smirk.

    ‘That’s right. But I had to stop before I went blind.’ This is delivered with immaculate timing and in such a deadpan way that the innuendo flies smoothly over young Dan’s head.

    I ask John how Liverpool is shaping up as this year’s centre of European culture. ‘We’ll have to see what kind of legacy it leaves when it’s all over,’ he says. ‘At the moment the only thing we have to look back on was the opening ceremony. Ringo was the headlining. To be honest, when he started to sing you knew that everyone there would have preferred him to read a Thomas the Tank Engine story. He has the kind of voice that makes you understand why he took up the drums.’

    We’re in danger of missing kick-off so it’s back in the car for a sprint across town. As we approach the stadium I ask them if they’re worried about taking a Chelsea supporter to the game. I don’t want to jinx them.

    ‘It’s all right,’ Ernie says gruffly, ‘if we lose we’ve already decided what we’re going to do with you.’

    Dan giggles at his grandfather. I laugh along as well but inside I’m praying for a win for the home side. I ask John if he thinks there’s something distinctive about the Liverpudlian sense of humour.

    ‘It’s hard to say. When you’re from somewhere it’s just natural to you. People who come always say that they find people in Liverpool to have a particularly sharp and cutting sense of humour. Someone once told me that it’s the same kind of humour you find in all port cities. I’m not so sure about that. I mean have you ever been to Hull?’

    We take up our seats in the heart of the Kop and although I’ve never been the quickest at picking up a football chant – I regularly get caught singing the wrong words at Stamford Bridge – I pick up the Liverpool supporters’ enthusiastic taunts at the Middlesbrough fans easily enough:

    ‘Fuck all! You’ve never won fuck all, you’ve never won fuck all, you’ve never won fuck all.’

    While the players warm up below us I ask John about his show, ‘Stick Your Job Up Your Arse’.

    ‘It’s all about how I became a comedian,’ he says. ‘It’s not a job that I think normal people choose. It sort of picks you and then you find you can’t not do it.’ John gave up a lot to pursue his current career path. ‘I had a good job, kids, mortgage, pension plan, BUPA, company car and gold executive cards for two airlines, but I gave it up at the end of 2006 to make strangers laugh. It’s a story that seems to resonate with a lot of people who are trapped doing stuff they don’t want to. Since I started doing it I’ve had emails off people who have actually changed their jobs, so even if its not funny it could be perceived as good careers advice.’

    Just nine minutes into the game Tuncay Sanli scores for Middlesbrough. John looks over at me with an expression that resembles the one I gave to my cat when I found it had shat in my shoe. This could be a very long 90 minutes.

    To lighten the mood a bit I ask what makes him laugh. ‘My dad and my mates. They’re all funnier than me and never tire of telling me, and they’re right. Also we have a new dog called Bilko, he makes me laugh, but he can't talk so would be a shit stand-up.’

    One of the Liverpool players miskicks the ball and a woman behind me shouts out, ‘Five million quid and he’s still fuckin’ shit.’ John nods in agreement. Then out of nowhere a miracle happens, courtesy of the wonderful Fernando Torres. Two goals in quick succession, followed by one more in the second half seal the victory and guarantee me a safe return down south.

    I feel slightly guilty about how happy I am that Liverpool have won. Not only am I a Blues fan but my grandad used to play for Everton so, if I was any kind of proper man I should have been livid. But I wasn’t. In fact the only thing I truly regret about the whole day was my choice of half-time snack. Quick tip – Bovril and Kit Kat do not a winning combination make.

    John Bishop is on at the Soho Theatre, Thur March 13-Sat March 15.

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