Desperate dan

During the past year, Daniel Kitson has emerged as one of the most innovative comedians currently working the stand-up circuit in Britain, yet is still largely unknown to the general public. However, if the 25-year old Barnsley native has remained a somewhat obscure, cult figure even after his Perrier Award winning turn at the Edinburgh Fringe last summer, then it is most definitely through choice.

In conjunction with the praise heaped on Kitson’s live show, Something, the comedian’s performance as the hilariously inept DJ Spencer in Peter Kay’s hit TV series, Phoenix Nights, looked set to launch him into the premier league of comic entertainers. But similarly to Chris Morris, Kitson has smartly resisted the allure of the mainstream, eschewing the tacky showbiz glare of film premiere/commercial voiceover ubiquity, and opting instead to concentrate on the only thing that counts - delivering acutely observed, bitingly funny comedy.

“The part I played in Phoenix Nights did get a lot of attention,” sighs Kitson, “but mainly because Peter Kay subsequently did the John Smith’s adverts, which moved him more into the mainstream. Then people started really picking up on Phoenix Nights, and the consensus emerged that it’s brilliant, he’s a genius etc etc. So I find myself fighting a constant battle to remind people that it’s not actually that good. I suppose it’s just a bit galling, both artistically and to my own ego, when I do a two-hour show on what I think and feel about the world, only to have someone come up to me afterwards and say, ‘Phoenix Nights was so amazing!’”

In fairness, Kitson would have less reason to gripe if his stand-up wasn’t so thoroughly deserving of attention in its own right. With ambitions to be a comic since his early teens - he performed his first shows aged sixteen - Kitson has honed his act into a spell-binding mix of rigorous observation and exhilarating flights of improvisational fancy. What were his initial comic inspirations?

“Well, there wasn’t really a specific inspiration,” replies Kitson. “It was more like I just enjoyed comedy generally, and found myself going, “Oh, alright, I’ll do this then.” I think when you’re into it at that age, you find yourself looking out for different bits of comedy - not just stand-up, but also TV and radio. And for me, that meant maybe an Eddie Izzard video here, a Bill Hicks record there, or even a Newman and Baddiel show. Just whatever I could get my hands on.”

Though Kitson, with his pronounced stammer and outsized NHS spectacles, would appear to be the living embodiment of the misfit youth turned scathing comic, he is dismissive of attempts to pin him down as an exponent of ‘outsider chic’.

“I don’t really focus on growing up a misfit or feeling alienated,” he insists. “I talk about what I think and feel, and maybe reference certain incidents that have occurred in my past. But one or two newspapers have really seized on that element and said, ‘Kitson’s show is the chronicle of an outsider’s life’. But it’s not really, it’s just me talking, y’know?! I mean, there’s a certain writer with the Sunday Times in Britain, he keeps saying, ‘This show will have you laughing through the tears, it’s so painful to watch’. That really annoys me. It’s genuinely not a painful show.”

Although these comments had made me wary of comparing Kitson’s show to the equally pained and profane outpourings of Johnny Vegas, to my great relief he brings up Vegas’ name himself when I ask him who of his contemporaries he most admires.

“Live, he’s the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen,” Kitson enthuses. “I mean, I think he’s a true genius… I’m…I’m not fit to lick the shit out of Johnny Vegas’ arse! I also love Tommy Tiernan and David O’Doherty. There’s some great comedians working in Ireland at the moment.”

Speaking of Mr O’Doherty, the same comedian recently explained his experiences at the Edinburgh festival to me thus: “The first week was brilliant. By the second week, you’re fatigued and you just want to run away in horror.” As the most recent winner of the Perrier Award, what does Daniel make of the Edinburgh Fringe?

“I love it just because you’re doing a show every night,” he says. “And ideally, you’ve got a room packed with people who have paid good money just to see your show. That’s when it’s really perfect - you’ve got an hour to do what you want and take people wherever you want to take them. I love that element. And I’m looking forward to going back this year, because all the bullshit about me winning the award will be gone, and I can just get on with doing the show I want to do.”

In the meantime, Kitson will continue on his first full-length national tour, which will include a short jaunt to Ireland. In the rock world, touring is universally recognised as an activity which can easily degenerate into a mundane slog. Do the same rules apply to a stand-up comedian on the road?

“Well, touring is kind of a peculiar thing when you’re a comedian,” Daniel explains. “You play gigs all over the country all the time anyway, so it’s just a nicer thing to book all the gigs you want to do, put them on a poster and officially call it a tour. And the shows so far have been great, but yeah, it can become a bit of a grind. I mean, as I’m speaking to you now, I’m sitting on the floor of Lime Street railway station in Liverpool, waiting on the train to Sheffield, with an apple. That’s not particularly rock ’n’ roll!”