Mackenzie Crook is actually shaking like a leaf. His small voice and plainly nervy disposition give the impression of somebody who never really expected to be chatting to journalists about his adventures in tortoise breeding and forest management.

“It’s all a dream come true,” he says. “To find myself working in movies, it’s, well, I still don’t really believe it.”
He looks up, like he seems to after every utterance, with an expression that wonders if he has given the right or wrong answer.
He is even apologetic about the frankly ludicrous controversy sparked by his latest movie Three And Out. In the film Mackenzie plays a Tube driver who, after two passengers fall under his train in rapid succession, is told of the ‘three and out’ rule. A third death will mean retirement with more than ten years pay, more than enough to retire to the Scottish highlands and finish that novel he has been working on for an unspecified number of years.
He soon trawls the city in search of some suicidal soul with whom he can cut a deal. He finds broken down alcoholic Colm Meaney, though naturally, not everything goes according to plan.
The marketing campaign alone was enough to inspire the wrath of the underground drivers union who accused the film of ‘insensitivity’.
“It’s a bit disappointing,” says Mackenzie. “These people haven’t seen the movie and we don’t dwell on the stuff they’re objecting to. I think they’re jumping to conclusions and will be pleasantly surprised. But maybe it’s our fault for not being clear in our advertising.”
Poor Mackenzie Crook. He really is the most unlikely movie star in the galaxy. Three And Out also required him to thrash about, full frontal, for some bedroom action with new Bond girl Gemma Arteron. There can’t be too many actors who’d feel sick at the very thought.
“It was nerve wrecking,” he shudders. “I really wasn’t looking forward to it. It’s an awkward thing to do with someone you’re not in a relationship with. Even if it does mean she was the Crook girl before Bond got to her.”
Not so very long ago the notion of Mackenzie Crook cavorting on screen with a glamour girl would have seemed more eccentric than his passion for coppicing. An odd looking bloke who grew with the assistance of hormones to reach his current height of 5’9”, young Master Crook wanted to go to art college but simply couldn’t get in – “I was the best drawer in my class and I really thought that was what I wanted to do but nowhere would have me. Now I’m working on an illustrated book for Faber. It’s amazing how having a role in Pirates Of The Caribbean can alter people’s opinion of your talent.”
Later on, after several years spent he wanted to be a comedian but he couldn’t get the breaks.
“I was host in a comedy club so I was writing various characters for myself,” he recalls. “On my own I’m far from the funniest bloke down the pub. There were lots of talented people around. Catherine Tate was there. Mitchell and Webb were about. I thought I’d be doing comedy gigs for a couple of years then I’d get some telly work. Ten years later I was still there.”
The Office changed everything. Reading the script he knew it would.
“I was very surprised when it didn’t take off at first,” he says. “People forget that it only became popular after it was repeated. The first time around the BBC didn’t have a lot of confidence in it. It was screened with no ads or trailers. But I knew the first time I read it that it was really special. By then I had really stopped caring about auditions because I was never successful but I remember being really nervous for that one.”
Nowadays, thanks to his role as Ragetti in Pirates Of The Caribbean, the once obscure comedian is recognised on the street. Unsurprisingly, it’s not something that sits well with someone who prefers to stay home in North London with his advertising executive wife and two young children.
“I never know what to do or say,” he says. ”It makes me very nervous if I’m honest.”
Oddly, this very unassuming chap has no problem doing theatre. His performance as the suicidal Konstantin in the recent West End production of Chekov’s The Seagull has received rave notices and will, he hopes, be transferred to Broadway some time this year.
It is something of a theme with Mackenzie playing dead or depressed people. Many commentators attribute his success, in part, to his ‘cadaverous’ appearance. I wonder how he feels about this less than flattering description.
“Funny, really,” he says. “I guess it’s the bags under the eyes. I mean, it does seem a little unfair to say I look like a corpse but that is what has got me the roles I’ve had. If I looked like Russell Crowe I’d probably be down the dole office.”

Three And Out is released April 25