Comedy

I’m sitting in the auditorium of an architecturally ghastly municipal theatre in Tunbridge Wells. It’s completely sold out. Outside, in the rain, there’s a queue of people, soddenly hoping for returns. How do all these people know about Michael McIntyre? Over the last year, this 32-year old ex-public schoolboy from Muswell Hill has jumped from playing small arts centres to touring packed houses of two or three thousand punters.

‘I don’t know who the fuck he is,’ the man in a Burberry cap next to me admits. ‘It was her idea,’ he says, pointing to the woman with dyed blonde pigtails to his left. Feature continues

Quite remarkably, she’s able to talk, chew gum and text at the same time: ‘I saw him on the telly – “Live at the Apollo” I think it was.’

A rather posh lady in front of me turns round: ‘Yes, I saw that. He was also on “Have I Got News for You”; he was funnier than Paul Merton. In fact, Paul didn’t get a word in. Not often that someone can get the better of him.’

As I look around at the diverse audience, I realise that McIntyre is the exact opposite of Marmite: apparently, you’ll either love him or love him. There’s every type of person here, from emo teenagers out with their parents to elderly Colonel Mustard-types who, presumably, are taking a couple of hours off from murdering someone in the library with a lead pipe.

The lights dim and McIntyre bounces on the stage like a posh, overexcited Andrex puppy. His joyous mood is infectious, and without really doing much he’s got 1,500 people smiling and giggling at the merest shake of his head or the quizzical raise of an eyebrow.

Before he can get into the meat of his set, he spots a man in the fourth row – who we later find out is called Steve – waving a small Santa Claus doll, which he would like McIntyre to be photographed with. Far from being thrown by this slightly peculiar – and a touch stalker-ish – behaviour, McIntyre obliges, and uses this as an opportunity to launch into some excellent material, which he’s obviously had stored in the back of his mind somewhere, about the many disappointments of the festive season.

Whatever the audience throws at him, he seems to have some polished and pristine routine on that subject ready and waiting to go. While none of the material is particularly groundbreaking it’s obvious that comedy runs in his blood, quite literally, as it turns out – his father, Ray Cameron, worked as a writer for years with comic legends Kenny Everett and Barry Cryer.

Some set pieces, like his discussion of the ‘man-drawer’ – a drawer every man has at home that’s filled with various bizarre, assorted objects which should prepare him for even the most obscure of emergencies – are obviously regulars, but you get the feeling numerous other sections have been selected from a vast back catalogue just for tonight. It’s like watching a cross-between Ross Noble and Peter Kay. Add to this his remarkable physicality, which at times would give Lee Evans a good run for his money, and you’ve got a pretty heady mix of comedic skills to laugh along to.

He’s not edgy or mind-blowingly insightful about the human condition, but does that really matter? It certainly doesn’t seem
to be bothering anyone here.

‘He’s funny as fuck.’ Is my new Burberry-clad friend’s critical evaluation, and who am I to disagree?

I catch up with McIntyre a few days later to ask him about the secret of his success.

‘I’ve done a bit of telly over this last year, and so we just decided to go for it with this tour, and, quite incredibly, it sold out. I can’t quite believe it.’

And is he enjoying the bigger houses?

‘There’s nothing better than having a bright, blinding light in your face and being guided by big, rolling laughter. There’s nothing more encouraging than hearing that huge sound. I’ve waited my whole life to hear that. You come away with the biggest high of your life. It gives you this fraction of a second to luxuriate in it. It feeds you, and inspires you to come up with new stuff. You can really immerse yourself in ideas and stories and relax. I’m not quite there yet, though – I’m still running around like a loony, because I’m too worried they’ll stop laughing.’

However, since starting his career in 2003, he hasn’t always received universal praise. In one review of his last tour he was described as looking like a ‘host in search of a game show’; the irony of his having just recorded a pilot for his own BBC1 quiz show, ‘Time of Your Life’, is not lost on McIntyre.

‘I never thought that was what I was going to do. I thought I was going to do some cult, cool, late-night interviewing thing on BBC2. But everyone kept saying: No, Michael, you’re teatime, you’re not cool. To which I’d say: “Fuck off! I am cool!” As it turns out, I’m not cool. So last week I donned a bright blue suit with sparkly lapels and a pair of shiny shoes and hosted a game show.’

And is he okay with this?

‘At the moment, I can eat, pay my bills and the family’s happy, and that’s the most important thing. I always used to want everyone to like me, because it used to hurt so much when people made snidey comments or gave me bad reviews, but I’ve learnt to deal with it. Now, I just get on with doing what I want to do. Besides, how can I feel down when I’ve got 3,000 people coming to see me and they’re touting tickets? It feels amazing.’

With the release of his debut DVD just around the corner, a prime-time television show in the offing and more demand for
tickets than he can satisfy, surely McIntyre is destined to become a comedy superstar.

Michael McIntyre performs at the Indigo O2 on Tuesday and at the Hammersith Apollo, November 3, 21, 23.