Sketch-based humour is arguably the runt of the live comedy circuit litter, its quirky structure perhaps more suited to television, where quickfire edits and canned laughter can help get the joke over. In the live arena, solo stand-up turns tend to rule the roost under the spotlight, and while sketch comedy enjoys its fair share of laughs from the gallery, it wouldn’t be unfair to suggest that those cackles are generally easier to draw by donning a persona with a pre-existing fanbase, such as Steve Coogan’s brilliant Alan Partridge or the many impressions of Mario Rosenstock.

Energetic Irish troupe Foil, Arms and Hog seem to thrive on the added pressure of facing audience preconceptions, their brand of onstage hijinks winning over crowds at home and abroad. Innovative, unpredictable and interactive – heckles aren’t feared and are actively encouraged – the Dublin-based trio are fully aware that their chosen brand of mirth isn’t for everyone.
“It does have a strange reputation,” admits Sean ‘Hog’ Flanagan, so nicknamed after his penchant for thieving the best characters and jokes for himself, a trait he gleefully admits still exists. “People are like, ‘Oh, sketch comedy? That’s just some English prats on stage in period costumes using really long words in really long sentences… no thanks!’ But it’s not that! At least not how we do it.”
Flanagan’s appreciation for comedy came not as a result of staying up late to watch comedians on TV but rather as a defence mechanism to ward off school bullies. While quick to dismiss the notion that stand-up is a form of therapy for those who practice the art, he concedes that he possesses something of a mean streak.
“My own style of humour is maybe a little bit more dark than the other two guys,” he laughs. “I’m probably the violent, sexualised and harsh comedian of the group. Maybe I’m the Frankie Boyle? There’s a bit of Frankie Boyle in all of us really. He rears his ugly head from time to time.”
Admit it, he bullied you, didn’t he?
“He was the same height back then! Same shaved head! What’s with that?!”
Alas, comedy still hasn’t saved them from total harm. Often armed with crash cymbals and various props, the six-legged comedy monster that is Foil, Arms and Hog tend to throw themselves into their work. Literally.
“We’ve had a lot of injuries,” sighs Sean. “Arms has developed terrible back problems from throwing himself on a stone floor in Edinburgh. The first sketch every night, he’d crack his own neck and then collapse and he did that for 30 nights straight. I think it did him in. Foil gave me a bloody nose once. He elbowed me in the face and didn’t realise it until five minutes later. The audience noticed and he was wondering why nobody was laughing. Oh, it was because my face was completely covered in blood, no big deal. But hey, that’s how committed we are in Foil, Arms and Hog. The Jackass guys got away with less than this!”
For Sean and his partners in comedic crime, their craft may not be an exact science, but there are three principles they look to when conjuring up sketches, namely, “Incongruity, surprise and the ability to pull the curtain away from the wizard, so to speak.” Incongruity?
“Basically, that refers to things that don’t go together,” he says. “Like an elephant in a policeman’s uniform giving you a speeding ticket or opening your door to find it’s made out of jelly. You build from that and it becomes funny. That’s just a theory though, comedy is still a mystery. It’s more of an educated guess when you’re coming up with stuff. There’s comedy in most things, you just have to find it.”
The group’s humour-based quest has brought them before all kinds of audiences, from the day-glo surroundings of Electric Picnic to, well, somewhat colder climes.
“In London,” begins Sean, “they’re more used to comedy clubs and that vibe, so the tradition there is to put the comedian through the wringer, to heckle and try and make it difficult for them. We’ve only played a couple of London clubs and they’ve gone okay, but promoters almost seem to warn you in advance. We’ve rang up and been told [adopts flawless Cockney accent], ‘Now listen, you do know that crowds over ‘ere yeah? They’re cunts!’. That’s what one guy said to us! ‘They’re cunts over ‘ere. It’s not like Ireland’.”
Blimey. Still, even if the crowds don’t always lap it up, the lads can console themselves with the adulation of some famous followers, with the likes of Des Bishop, Ardal O’Hanlon and more lining up to dish out the plaudits. Does that help?
“Yeah, big time,” he nods. “It’s great to be able to put on a poster in Edinburgh that Jason Byrne and Bill Bailey think we’re imaginative and funny. It helps to sell those vital extra tickets. If David O’Doherty wants to say nice things about us, I will bow down and like that. Sean Flanagan likes this! Thumbs up! We’ve nothing but respect for those guys.
“David McSavage was kind enough to put us on The Savage Eye and we wrote for that and appeared in a few sketches. Conor (McKenna, ‘Arms’) crossed paths with The Rubberbandits on Republic Of Telly, one of them at least, so he saw the face behind the mask. I’m still quite curious. Is he 15? He’s got a skinny 15-year-old body but an older voice so I don’t really know.”
Spoiler alert: it’s actually Frankie Boyle.
“Fucking bastard, he’s everywhere!”

Foil, Arms and Hog celebrate their fourth birthday with a show at Whelan’s, Dublin on April 20. For more, see foilarmsandhog.ie.