Sunday Independent (Ireland)

Waking Hours

A day in the life of PJ Gallagher

- In conversati­on with Ciara Dwyer

Inormally get up at 5am, because I have to be in the radio station Classic Hits 4FM at 6am. I actually love the morning. I never thought that I would. I’ve worked 20 years doing night shifts as a comedian, and then all of a sudden, I’m doing breakfast radio. So many people told me that you never get used to the early mornings, but I hope that I never stop doing them.

I eat a monster breakfast — four boiled eggs. And then I’ll wait an hour and have half a bag of rice and tuna, and then I have another four boiled eggs. I only eat one yolk each time. I eat every hour. I started working out in the gym about a year-and-a-half ago. We were doing a radio promotion where you had to lose a stone in six weeks. I really enjoyed it, and I didn’t want to stop.

There is no one up when I’m getting up in the morning. I live with my wife, Elaine, and our dogs. Elaine is a hairdresse­r and she works on films. I let the dogs out to do their business, and then I saddle up on the motorbike and head off to do the show. The motorbike is the easiest way to travel.

I’ve only ever worked so that I can buy motorbike parts. It’s the number-one passion in my life. When I was a young boy, I was obsessed with the stunt performer Evel Knievel. I had this little toy motorbike that you used to wind up and it would jump over everything. When I got a BMX bike, I just wanted to jump over stuff, and as I got older, it got wilder. I wanted to race. But after I hit 40, I said, ‘That’s enough for me’. I didn’t like being in pain any more. My body couldn’t take the hits.

Working on radio is totally different, and I love it. As a comedian, you’re like a van driver — you drive for three hours in one direction and, instead of delivering a parcel, you deliver a few jokes, and then you drive home. It’s not that interestin­g. And even when you’re speaking, nobody is allowed to speak back. But when you’re doing radio, you’re part of a team. I get on really well with Jim [McCabe] my co-presenter, and the producer Mike, and Tara in the newsroom. When I started doing radio, I had to learn to censor myself. I realised that you can get someone else in trouble. Also, I had to learn to listen to other people. I was used to going out saying whatever I wanted, for as long as I wanted. But on the show, you don’t have an hour to talk every time you open your mouth.

The show is on until 10am. Then we have two hours of prep work for the following day. Then after that, I head straight to the gym. I need someone roaring at me to push me and stop me from getting lazy. If I didn’t have that, I’d be taking days off.

After the gym, I walk the dogs on Dollymount beach, and I have a quick hello with my mother. I’m very close to my ma. I call up to her or talk to her at least once a day. She always knows best, and this can be very annoying. If I need advice or am worried about something, I’ll always talk to her. She tells me to cop myself on, and I need to hear that a lot.

I have two mothers, because I was adopted. Every Mother’s Day, my mother reminds me to call my mother. It’s weird. Being adopted meant absolutely nothing to me, because I assumed that everyone was adopted. It came as a terrible shock when I found out that they weren’t.

I remember talking to a fella in my class and it became apparent that he was still with his mother and father that he was born with. I remember feeling really sorry for him, thinking, ‘Couldn’t they find anybody to take this poor kid?’ Eventually, I realised that my situation was the more unusual one.

In the beginning, I wasn’t curious enough to find my birth parents. I was young and just getting on with living. But then, after I’d been in hospital a lot — for falling off motorbikes and an illness called Reiter’s syndrome — I realised that I knew nothing about my medical history. I started to ask questions about who I was and where I came from.

My birth family are great. I met them back in 2001. My parents married years after they had me and went on to have other children. So I gained a whole new crew. When I first met my sister, it blew me away, because we looked so alike. Neither of us could talk. It was so unnerving. But also, when I was growing up, people wouldn’t believe that I was adopted, because I was such a ringer for my da. I really looked like him.

I’m a comedian because I can’t do anything else. I had loads of day jobs, and I was shite at them all. I just wanted to find something that I was good at, and that was a huge thing for me. The comedian Jason Byrne was a great help. Every time I tried to quit, he was like the voice of America with his you-can-do-it attitude.

I do gigs at the weekends. When I arrive in the venue, I go out on stage an hour before the show and imagine that the audience is already in the room, and that they are having a good time. It settles my nerves. There are not a lot of jobs where you get a round of applause for just turning up on time, never mind making them laugh. It comes with a whole load of stress and responsibi­lity, trying to make people’s nights worthwhile, but it’s the best job in the world.

I always drive home after a show, no matter where I am in the country. It takes you half the time in the middle of the night. I listen to audio-books. I’m always exhausted by the time I go to bed. I worry a lot, but it never stops me sleeping.

“My mother is always right. She tells me to cop myself on. I need to hear that a lot”

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