Hoot Press: From a whisker to a scream (of laughter)

Laughter and sunshine – just what the doctor ordered. And let’s face it, following a week dominated by non-stop coverage of clerical child abuse, the tiresome election campaign and the tanking economy, some light relief was badly needed. Kilkenny, like the rest of the country, sizzled day and night through the June weekend, bearing a close resemblence to the south of France rather than a south midlands Irish town (oops, sorry ‘city’). Rarely have I seen so many happy people milling around the narrow streets of Kilkenny determined to have a good time.

But the problem, as always, with Cat Laughs is fitting in as many acts as possible - not an easy task with 62 comedians performing 86 shows over five days. Still, we managed to catch over a dozen performances in 48 hours – rather good going, when all is said and done.
The first sight we encountered on arriving outside the Ormonde Hotel was Tommy Tiernan being mobbed by a bunch of excitable girls heading out on the town. He has little choice but to pose for endless photos and mobile phone videos and does so graciously. The man is adored! His shows were completely sold out, not surprisingly. And they were riveting.
Later, we caught ever-popular Ardal O’Hanlon who was the headliner in the Rivercourt Hotel on Saturday night. Looking in fine shape, he was greeted with a huge cheer when he bounded on stage. Always a man with his finger on the pulse, he informed us in his own imitable, deadpan manner that, due to the state of economy, he would be cutting back on the amount of jokes he would be telling during his act. And what’s more, he said he had been forced to outsource his joke-writing to India. Cue lots of stuff about arranged marriages and the perils of swimming in the Ganges (“Well it goes down very well in Mumbai,” he mumbled in classic Father Dougal mode.) Brilliant!
John Bishop was a revelation to yours truly. An award winner and a proud Scouser with a neat line in Scally wit, he had a go at his tracksuit-wearing brethren with their white vans and their habit of buying new runners when they go on holidays. “They wear the away kit when going out to dinner,” he mocked. He also despaired of the fact that his own kids were now couscous-eating members of the middle class: “I can’t relate to them,” he joked, “They’re the kind we used to throw stones at.”
Waterford Airport, where he’d arrived the previous day, didn’t escape his ire: “The fooking fire engine is the biggest thing to ever hit the runway. And bloody Aer Arran is what happens when farmers decide to set up an airline,” he added.
And can it be really true that the baggage handler and immigration officer at Waterford Airport is one and the same person? Bishop seemed to think so – his name is Eamon apparently!

US comedian Kathleen Madigan was another highlight. Smart and clever, she joked about Obama and McCain (the reason he didn’t get in, she reasoned, is that the kind of people who might have voted for him forgot which day the election was on). Recently back from entertaining the troops in Afghanistan, she related how a five star Major General type gave her a rundown of the progress he believes the Americans are making in that troubled country: “We’re building hospitals, roads, schools, power stations shopping centres, building the economy” he told her proudly.
“Jeez – why don’t we just invade Detroit?,” she asked him.
Comedy of a different nature came from the Wisconsin former roofer Shane Mauss. With his stoner personality and pronounced drawl, he was a howl. “I’ve given up taking drugs and I’m just sticking to alcohol” he revealed. “I’ve discovered the big difference between booze and drugs. If I fall off my bike when I’m drunk I just lie there but when I’m wasted and I fall off, I keep peddling.”
His sex life wasn’t off-limits either. “My girlfriend said ‘why don’t you make love to me like they do in the movies?’ So I came on her face. I guess we’ve different tastes in movies.” (You get the picture!)
Sarah Millican comes across as a younger, smuttier Victoria Wood – her northern English wit goes down well, especially with the large female contingent. The lack of a boyfriend and her state of singledom was a constant theme. “My father is helping me look for a new flat – for some reason he keeps persuading me not to go for anything with a balcony or with gas cooking. “A lonely single woman shouldn’t be left on her own with all that temptation,” he said. “Thanks dad.”
The Irish contingent held their own amid the international competition with Colm Murphy, Karl Spain, PJ Gallagher and Maeve Higgins putting in stellar performances. Jason Byrne in particular employed his ad lib skills to good effect when an unfortunate woman fainted during a performance featuring Dutch comedy genius Hans Teeuwen.
The annual soccer match between Ireland and the Rest of the World saw the home team well and truly trounced – not that anyone really cared. It was so much fun. Meanwhile back at the Festival Club in the early hours, we had a quick word with the wonderful Phil Jupitus who not only performed a couple of shows but DJed for three hours playing a fantastic mix of ska and soul. Was he enjoying himself? “It’s the best bloody comedy festival in the world,” he said as he ordered a much-needed drink.
And who are we to disagree?