Who inspires you? My cat, Pig. He wakes up, eats a bowl of tuna, does a huge dump, acts like an idiot for an hour and then naps. It’s the day-to-day routine that every comedian craves. What made you get into comedy? The perfect mix of a terrifying ego and an astonishing lack of self-esteem. I can’t tell day to day whether I’m arrogant or I hate myself, but I think somewhere in-between is absolutely ideal for a comedian. What did you spend lockdown doing? Some days it was quite similar to Pig. Then on other days I was recording so many podcasts on Zoom that I felt like I was made of pixels and living inside the laptop, which was actually quite comforting. Other than that, I would do things like cycle to the butcher’s like I was a character in Heartbeat. I was barbecuing about four times a week, which I considered to be my spiritual pinnacle, but my wife has since confided that she thought I was having a breakdown. Can you recall a gig so bad it’s now funny? Jamie Oliver’s food festival. No idea what year, but I remember my stage time: 11:40am. On the main stage. They open the gates at 11:30am. I had to beckon people to come forward from one mile away to try to banter with them. A disaster, yes, but I enjoyed every second. Where do you find your material? In a bin on Clapham Common. Second one from the right when you come in the south entrance. No idea who’s writing it, but it’s pretty solid stuff. What’s your current show about? The political situation, the death of the novel and third- wave feminism from a French perspective. That’s all subtext though – on the surface it’s mainly about buffet breakfasts. Any pre-show rituals? I turn off MasterChef approximately seven seconds before I walk on. I prefer to be as close to my personality as I can be on stage as I am off. Although quite often I end up being more like Gregg Wallace. Comedy hero and why? Mr Blobby. Because he genuinely does not care. Non-comedy hero and why? Rylan. Because he is as funny as any comic I know, but has too many skills in other arts to bother with standup. He’s brilliant. Best heckle you have ever got? There is no such thing as a good heckle. Don’t heckle. It is always annoying. Best advice you wish to give? To up-and-coming comedians: gig, gig, gig, and remember that nothing matters as much as you think it does. To people in general: buy tickets to come and see me on tour.