Can't stand up for falling down

Joe Rooney can skate – well, just about. He can go forward, but hasn’t totally mastered the art of stopping. So might something horrible happen at the 7UP Christmas on Ice event at the RDS?

These events are a familiar part of Christmas in Dublin now: a giant ice-skating rink is set-up in the capital and anyone struggling for a Christmas party idea rocks up to hug the rails, falls over, and generally has a bit of craic.
And this year, organisers have added a comedy element to the event. On December 7 Joe Rooney will perform as part of it. He’s been at the rink before, but that was in his role as a father-of-two, and not in his professional capacity as one of Ireland’s top skating stand-ups hoping not to fall down.
“It was good craic,” says Rooney of his ice-skating memories, “it’s weird though, ‘cause there are a lot of people who really can’t skate, and they just hang onto the railing. And then there are the real show-off types, the ones that go backwards.”
It should be second nature to Joe really – he grew up in the era when roller-discos were still bafflingly popular. “My first kind of grope was in a roller skating disco. It was actually an intentional fall, cause I knew that if I fell I could get a grope,” he confesses. “I had it all planned.”
One thing that wasn’t planned was the beginnings of his stand-up career. Rooney had been in a band called Guernica, who showed some early promise in the late 1980s. “We were kind of influenced by New Order… probably too influenced,” he admits. But even if they never made it, some haven’t forgotten the band. “To be honest a few of the singles are on eBay.” I ask Joe if it’s him that’s selling them. “Yeah,” he laughs, “and buying them!”
The band often invited stand-ups to warm-up for them, and when his dream of being the next Bernard Sumner didn’t take off (how many boys have had to deal with that shattered fantasy?) and, unable to resist the lure of the spotlight, he decided to give comedy a go and joined up with young comic Paul Tylak.
It was a different Ireland, and a different comedy scene, back then, so Rooney had to pursue some unorthodox means to launch his new career. “We went around to bands asking them if we could do a few minutes before their gigs. There wasn’t many comedy clubs at the time, But it’s getting better and better. For years it was just Dublin, Galway, Limerick and Cork, but nowadays you can pretty much go all over the country and play gigs and people are into it.”
As is frequently the way, it wasn’t his years as a gigging comic that got Joe noticed – it was one fluke appearance on TV. For half an hour in the mid-‘90s, he was Damo in Father Ted, an enfant terrible priest who almost lured Father Dougal Maguire to the dark side of cigarettes and swearing. It’s still what Rooney is most remembered for.
Which is a shame, because he’s an immensely talented comedian. But maybe it’s a measure of how good his performance as Damo was, and indeed how well-loved Father Ted remains. On the other end of the spectrum of critical acclaim lies Killinaskully, Pat Shortt’s rural “comedy” that features Joe as Timmy Higgins. The character is the butt of his drinking mates’ jokes, in much the same way as the show is the constant butt of critics’ barbs.
Rooney doesn’t let the criticism get to him. “I wouldn’t care too much. It did get a lot of bad reviews for the last Christmas special, but to be honest I thought it was a bit weak,” he says. You get the impression that having been on the scene for nearly 15 years, Rooney appreciates the steady source of income the show represents. And besides, “it’s not as personal to me as it would be to Pat Shortt.”
RTE also gets a lot of stick for its comedy output. Shows like The Cassidys and Upwardly Mobile haven’t covered Montrose in glory, but Rooney thinks things are looking up. “I think they’re definitely improving, with Naked Camera and The Panel, and I suppose Killinaskully is more mainstream,” he says. “I think it’s obviously a pity that we still haven’t got a sketch show that’s really taken off, which is why I should really get one.”
That not-so-subtle mention references Rooney’s current attempts to secure RTE’s backing for a sketch show he’s mooted. Despite being involved in several shows that have been cancelled, Rooney still enjoys TV work, even though he says he can’t bear to watch himself. “I enjoy shooting it, but I wouldn’t get the same buzz from watching it.” He says television is more “relaxed” than stand-up, and it’s pretty obvious that it doesn’t compare to the rush he can get onstage when everything goes right.
But Rooney’s had it go wrong before, and as he gets ready for his gig on the ice (presumably with the benefit of some lessons on how to stop while skating), he still remembers one of the weirdest gigs he’s played: the departure lounge of Dublin Airport. He’s still not sure what the concept was. “Someone was sponsoring it. This was some great idea they had, to have a stand-up comedian in the departures lounge. It’s certainly difficult when half your audience have to leave… and then I was interrupted by some feckin’ eejit dressed as a bear… it really annoyed me. Anyone dressed as an animal coming into my gigs is going to annoy me.”
Surely that doesn’t happen much. “It’s not a regular occurrence,” he admits. Lucky for him?, I offer. “No, lucky for them.”