A Visit from the Bishop

The date: September 3, 2003. The time: 14.00. Location: the deepest midlands of Ireland. Your correspondent is dealing with the ever-burgeoning workload on his desk with characteristic diligence and application (ie. slouched on the sofa in the living room, engrossed in the DVD box-set of Twin Peaks: Season 1 and having less-than-pure thoughts about the young Lara Flynn Boyle), when a quick glance at the clock indicates that this period of, er, intensive textual analysis is about to be brought to an abrupt end.

Just as Special Agent Dale Cooper unravels a further clue in the ongoing quest to apprehend Laura Palmer’s killer with a typically uncanny piece of intuitive deduction, I reluctantly hit the stop-button and reach for the phone. It’s two o’clock, and Des Bishop – US stalwart of the Irish comedy scene – is awaiting my call.

“Hey Paul, I’m in Dr. Quirkey’s,” answers Bishop, in what proves to be merely the first in a series of pleasingly (or alarmingly, depending on your psychogenic disposition) Lynchian details to our opening exchanges. “Did they tell you about my situation? Why I am where I am right now?”

No, I answer, I was most definitely not appraised of the circumstances pertaining to your current whereabouts.

“No problem,” continues Bishop, his stainless Brooklyn tones offering staunch reassurance. “You see, I’m actually being filmed all this week, but they’ve given me a day off. That’s why I’m slacking off in the amusement arcade. I’m involved with this interesting little project, it’s a documentary. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed give away any details as to what it’s about.”

Rest assured, dear readers, that Bishop’s cryptic utterances were swiftly decoded once the hotpress sleuthing network sprung into action. Whilst journalistic etiquette sadly prevents us from splashing details of the project on our front page (though we can reveal that it does broadly concern the issue of exploitative employment practices), suffice to say that the show is likely to be one of the more intriguing propositions in RTE’s autumn schedule.
In the meantime, Bishop will make a welcome return to the live arena. Once the documentary has been completed, the comedian intends on putting the finishing touches to what he describes as a “greatest hits package” for his upcoming Irish tour.

“We’re filming the Vicar Street show with a view to a possible video release,” he explains, “so it seems fitting to attempt some kind of summation of the material I’ve done to date. It’s a scary process sifting through the old stuff; a few of the really early jokes I find slightly cringeworthy, other parts are probably irretrievably dated, and some of it I’m just simply sick of performing. But, y’know, it’s surprising and actually quite gratifying to realise that I’m really happy with the majority of the routines. There’s a wealth of interesting material and I think the potential is there to turn out a genuinely great show.”

Bishop’s belligerent stage presence has seem him garner some mightily impressive press reviews over the past number of years, with this very publication even venturing forth with the opinion that his material on the war in Afghanistan was “reminiscent of the late great Bill Hicks”. Whilst the comedian is pleased at the comparison, he ultimately admits to harbouring reservations about its true validity.

“Y’know, up until that point, I hadn’t really talked about America too much,” he reflects. “At that time, I just talked about what I felt, what was occupying my mind - which is all I ever do. But I don’t do much of that material now, because to be honest over the past year or so that kind of knee-jerk, anti-Bush routine has become a schtick in and of itself.

“But do you wanna know something? I think that since I was an American saying these things in Europe, there was a sort of implicit agreement from the audience from the outset, which perhaps defuses the situation somewhat. Like, because I’m from New York, and because I knew someone who died on September 11, people didn’t automatically respond with, ‘This is sick’. They said, ‘This is what he’s going through’. However, if on the other hand I had performed that show in America back then, that would have been Hicks-ish.”

Are Irish audiences more receptive to confrontational humour generally?

“The funny thing is, Irish people love controversial stuff about the States, and they love controversial stuff about their own government, but it’s always very lighthearted, y’know? It’s having a go at the gombeen politicians. From my own experience, people hate really controversial material. Like, I do stuff about the Eucharist, and I do stuff about abortion, and that always splits an audience. Seriously, some people will get really incensed, and say, ‘That’s sick, how dare you make fun of this.’

“More than anything, religion really touches a nerve in this country. It’s okay to make jokes about paedophile priests, but when you really get down to the nitty-gritty and start questioning people’s beliefs and so forth, that’s it, you’ve crossed the line. But I like to see how far I can push things. I think people who come along to my shows really appreciate that I try to be something other than, y’know, Mr. Light Entertainment.”

Des Bishop plays Vicar St., Dublin on September 2, and the Triskel Arts Centre, Cork on October 2, 3 & 4