‘I was broke, but I would not trade my sobriety for any amount of money’

IN 2017, a 24-year-old Al Porter was selling out venues across Ireland and the UK, presenting a show on Today FM, hosting Blind Date and was in talks about a Netflix special. But he stepped back from the limelight after a series of allegations of sexual misconduct and inappropriate behaviour. A sexual assault claim made to gardai was later withdrawn by the DPP and charges were dropped.

After the pandemic, Al then returned to doing stand-up, enjoying a sold-out run at the Edinburgh Fringe and performing at festivals alongside John Bishop and Jim Jefferies. These days, Al is about to embark on a tour with his show, titled Now.

“It’s about growing up,” the 31-year-old says.

“There’s a story of early success, screwing up and changing to turn your life around.”

The comedian brings his stand-up show to the Limelight in Belfast on July 19.

How did your upbringing shape your attitude to money?

I’m from a very hard-working Tallaght family. My mam is the parish secretary and my dad was in the army from when he was 15. They worked hard to provide for us and I learned that hard-earned money is best spent on experiences.

We were never about things. We had great family holidays each year with my nana, and I did drama classes and exams that I now realise were very expensive. My nana’s attitude was that you can’t take it with you — and she loved to dote on us.

My great-aunt, an ex-nun, would say: “If you worry about money, you’ll never have it.” I still don’t fully understand that, but somehow I think it’s true.

How did being out of the spotlight affect your financial wellbeing?

I never think about the money. When I stopped working in 2017, I’d just had my first year of work that made money. Budgeting for a very unsure future after that wasn’t top priority, so it wasn’t long until I was flat broke. There were very real issues with mental wellbeing and alcohol to address over those years. I’ve spent the past six years working on being a better person, and I’m still a work in progress. I wouldn’t trade my sobriety or that good work for any amount of money.

Would you buy Irish property now?

I love that the question implies it’s an option for me. I like where I’m living now, and I’d love a bit more space, but my parents just won’t leave. I’m dropping hints, but no joy.

In all seriousness, my partner works in theatre, too, so looking to buy isn’t on the cards for now. We did rent a place on an island off Donegal last year. Island living is perfect for writing and good for the soul, but with gigs around Ireland and the UK, and with Now coming up in New York and Australia, it’s hard to put down roots. We’re like loads of couples our age — living with parents and not quite sure if we’ll ever afford life in Dublin.

We’re very lucky compared to many, and I’m sure it’s not ideal for our parents either. I’d love to go back in time and tell my dad: “When you hit retirement, you’ll be roommates with two gay men.” Just to see his face.

What was your first job?

I was the original Robbie Keane in I, Keano at the 3Olympia when I was 10. I lied so much about liking football that Peter Sheridan gave me the part. I told the lads in school I had the title role — that didn’t hold up to any inspection.

What was your biggest financial mistake?

A designer jacket I bought years ago for a little too much. I was in London to do Live At The Apollo and decided to buy myself something. It was a little tight but, me being me, I thought: “Sure I’ll lose that weight.” But to get to that weight I’d probably be on my way out, so I suppose I could always be buried in it.

Last month I was back doing shows in Leicester Square Theatre for the first time in years. This time, I treated myself to a Nando’s. How times have changed.