There’s a line in Sean Hughes’ second novel, It’s What He Would’ve Wanted, where the anti-hero of the story, Shea Hickson, ponders, “Why am I writing this?”, and it’s a line that you are soon wondering about the author himself. Why exactly is a funnyman writing a tale about suicide?
“I’m not exactly sure,” offers the Irish comedian. “I think there’s a part of me that needs to be satisfied, a part that has nothing to do really with making people laugh. I always hate it when comedians try to write funny novels anyway, because they’re very rarely funny. I just don’t try to be funny when I write.”
Of course, being noted as a stand-up comedian and TV funnyman (currently making fun of old pop stars on BBC’s Never Mind The Buzzcocks), being taken seriously as a novelist isn’t going to be all that easy for Sean Hughes. Just like rocks stars acting, actors rocking out and models presenting The Big Breakfast, a funnyman scribing a parable of modern life is going to be a hard sell for most people. “Especially the critics,” offers Hughes. “I think it’s becoming less and less of a problem though, because the generation of comedians I’ve come up with are all branching out into different areas. The example I like to use for this is the triathlon. ‘Hey, he’s getting up on a bike now. He said he could swim, and that he could run, but he never said he could ride a bike too!’ I think it’s really just a case of not wanting to be pigeon-holed.”
Of course, Hughes has put pen to paper before, having inflicted two books of poetry on us before. That sense of the flowery hasn’t deserted him here. But you do wonder what Buzzcocks MC Mark Lamaar would make of lines like “Five o’clock, the wind was still French-kissing the window” and “Outside the huge outside darkened and claustrophed, a dimmer switch on the side of my head I had no control of”.
“He’d probably give me a good beating, that’s what,” answers Hughes. “But you’re really just trying to get inside the mind of the protagonist here, speaking through that person. I think every line should be there for a reason, and those lines are there to give you an idea of what this guy is like. He’s a closet poet, and he doesn’t know it.”
Still, such poncey prose isn’t going to help when Hughes is trying to be taken seriously as a novelist. His second novel - after 1999’s The Detainees - has Hughes met with much prejudice so far?
“Well, I did the Steve Wright show on Radio 2, and because the book’s got suicide at its core, you’ve got Steve saying, ‘Well, thanks Sean for coming in. We won’t really talk about the book, because it’s not really appropriate on my wacky show’. They’d have me on because they know me of my comedy, and suddenly they’re faced with this book on suicide. And if you do a reading somewhere, you don’t tend to get questions like, ‘What happened to Shea afterwards?’. It’s more along the lines of, ‘Whose your favourite guest on the Buzzcocks?’. But if you can reach just one person with that book…”
Then you’re not doing very well, and your publisher will drop you.
“True, very true.”
Having won the Perrier Award at the Edinburgh Comedy Festival ten years ago, his subsequent Channel 4 sitcom, Sean’s Show, launching a TV career, Hughes spearheaded the Irish comedy explosion of the last three years. So, how was it for him?
“The accent helps a little bit,” he muses, “but I think our generation were the first to realise that, okay, I know we’re supposed to be shit at everything, but we’re going to give this a shot anyway. There was an inferiority complex for so long, but that’s definitely been shaken off now over the last few years. Now English comedians are putting on Irish accents just to get some more work. I reckon.”
Finally, another line from the book. “The saddest thing was that, after years of talking about it, they were about to move back to Ireland”. Does Sean have any plans to move back to Dublin?
“In a word, no,” he states. “It’s not even where you live, it’s more to do with settling into a way of life. I’m not flying a big flag for Ireland or anything, but I still get a tear in my eye when Ireland do well in the Eurovision Song Contest. And if anyone refers to me as an English comedian, I’m pretty quick to correct them too. But I’ve made something approaching a life for myself here in London, and unless the petition to have me deported is successful, I think I’ll be here for some time to come.”
Having made a very comfortable living as a funny guy over the last decade, does Hughes still get that angry young man, Bill Hicks rush with his work, or has he mellowed out with age?
“Well, there’s two points to that,” he answers. “One is that Bill Hicks was really a one-off. I don’t think he’ll ever be surpassed. But I do hate it when comedians get to a certain age and then mellow out, because I’ve still got so much anger in my little black heart. I think it’s mainly because I’ve never been motivated by money. I’m not doing a bleeding heart here, because I do demand good money, but it’s not the be all and end all. For instance, I’m doing Art in the West End at the moment, and that’s largely to do with the challenge of doing a West End run for 14 weeks. Which is something I wouldn’t have considered a few years ago, but as I get older, I’m just looking for new challenges in life.”
There is always that danger of the Fat Elvis syndrome kicking in, and you find yourself running on empty. And fried banana and peanut butter sandwiches.
“Oh yeah, but I think having a go at society is still very much part of what I do, as with the character in the book and the organisation he works for. Having a go at happy family celebs who have been caught out shagging someone else. It’s just that two-faced element to celebrities and politicians out there. I know what my next book is about too, by the way, and that’s not a joy either. If I ever did mellow, I think I’d just disappear. I don’t think I’d end up on Call My Bluff, just trying to make money.”
Finally, what are Hughes’ future plans?
“I’m coming to the end of 14 weeks with Art, and then there’s the next novel, and the new series of Buzzcocks. I’m kinda busy until March of next year, and then I may have a spurt of energy and do a tour. I’m not running out of energy really, but I do get tired in the afternoons now. I need my naps.”
