The Press and Journal (Inverness, Highlands, and Islands)
Frank’ s dishing Dirt on 30-year comedy career
B “efore I started gigging, my knowledge of Aberdeen was basically Alex Ferguson and granite,” says Frank Skinner.
“They’re two things that have quite a lot in common, of course. I’ve always had a really good time up in Aberdeen, though. My experiences there have been pretty positive.”
For a decade between roughly the mid-’90s and the mid-2000s, Skinner – often with his former comedy partner David Baddiel – was one of the hottest properties in television, through
programmes including Fantasy Football League, Baddiel And Skinner Unplanned and his own chat show.
Then in 2007 he returned to stand-up after a decade away, and hasn’t looked back.
“Nowadays I’ve gone back to seeing myself mainly as a stand-up comic – that’s my number one job,” says Skinner, from the back seat of the car which is taking him from tour dates in Wales and on to Liverpool.
“It’s something I love doing, and it’s something you should do, if you can do it. There’s a reason
reality TV stars who get a bit of fame make a pop single, or do a bit of acting, but don’t normally do a 60-date stand-up tour. It would be a disaster.”
Does he prefer the stage to the screen?
“I had a great time with television and it got me a lot of places,” he says, “but I did Swansea last night and, at the end, there was one of those standing ovations where everyone I could see in the audience was on their feet... I can still feel the glow of it, and that’s pretty hard to beat.
“I get quite romantic about stand-up, I feel it’s a noble art but I’ve never
really felt noble about doing a panel show.”
What’s his new show, 30 Years Of Dirt, about?
“It’s about the fact I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for a little more than 30 years, and I’ve made several attempts to clean it up, but it’s always ended up being quite rude,” says Skinner.
“This time I’ve had a real good try and, while I’ve managed to get some clean material in, I haven’t managed to eradicate the other stuff.
“It’s about my struggle to become a cleaner, more sophisticated, more modern comedian – and
failing, basically. I’ve always done a lot of rude, sex-based material, but when I was growing up in Birmingham, those were the jokes that people told at school, in the pub, in the factory.
“When I moved to sophisticated London it took me a while to adapt, and I haven’t really managed it yet.”
This topic, of course, might feed into all sorts of discussions about the changing face of comedy.
“I’m less bothered about that, to be honest, because I don’t have any desire to go up there and do an hour of racism,” he says. “I’ve
always thought the best comedy is on the line (of acceptability) and, when the line moves, I move with it.
“So I don’t feel terribly restrained or, you know, feeling: ‘You can’t say this, you can’t say that.’ I’ve slightly missed out on the big ‘woke’ debate, in that respect.”
Many comedians say that’s the sign of being good at their craft, to adapt to changing times without giving up being funny.
“If you’re good enough, you could do gigs in Soviet Russia – I know it doesn’t exist any more – and still find your way around the dos and don’ts,” says Skinner.
“You never used to be able to say anything, you still would say stuff the audience didn’t like and took exception to, and it’s the same in everyday conversation. That would be a world where you’re constantly hurting and upsetting people.”
Skinner is 67, but he says his 11-year-old son Buzz informs his outlook.
“Don’t you find you’re at your most ‘woke’ when you’re talking to your kids?” he asks.
“I remember explaining to him after we’d watched a Tinkerbell film that there’s no such thing as a girl’s film or a boy’s film – which is quite hard to justify after 90 minutes of Tinkerbell.
“You want them to grow up to be good citizens.
“I write stuff, then do it in little clubs in front of 80 people and, if they laugh, it’s in and, if they don’t laugh, it’s out.
“It’s still possible to get the big laughs without having to sell your soul.”
These days, Skinner has rebranded himself as a kind of celebrity ambassador for the medium of poetry. Yet, given his background, it’s hard not to ask about this summer’s Euros.
“I would imagine England will have a brave, battling defeat in the semifinals,” he says, promising nothing Three Lionsrelated in 2024, adding: “There’s no more blood left in that particular stone!”
“I’ve come to accept we’ll probably never win anything now, and that’s all right. We named our son Buzz, because Buzz Aldrin was the second man on the Moon.
“You don’t have to always be first in everything, you just want to be in it. Even if you’re doing badly, you want to be on the stickers.”
He’s laughing as he says this – Skinner is the sort of comedian who’s funny even when he’s being philosophical.
“As a West Brom fan, the idea of winning anything again has gone, so you start thinking: ‘There’s plenty of good stuff about.’ Just managing. Just making do.
“As I get older, I’m basically happy to get out of the group stage in life.”
Frank Skinner plays His Majesty’s Theatre, Aberdeen, on Sunday March 24. For more information go to frankskinnerlive.com or aberdeenperforming arts.com