"I WAS JUST BASICALLY JUST SHOUTING AT PEOPLE IN THOSE DAYS"

Mark Lamarr interviews Phill about his heroes and his years as 'ranter'...

Mark Lamarr Our careers have so many parallels, Phill, don't you think? We both started out as poets and became stand-ups. We both worked on Radio 1 and GLR. We both write articles for papers and magazines and we've both been known to sing. Plus, of course, we've both ended up on Never Mind the Buzzcocks. However you do have a talent that which bugs me.

Phill You have a record collection which bugs me.

Mark You're a great cartoonist. What I want to know is which gives you the greatest pleasure, drawing or stand-up?

Phill The stand-up is very gratifying. I'm also starting to really enjoy TV though. I used to watch you on The Word and, at certain moments, see you having as much fun as I know I have on stage. I've only done live TV a few times and I always die on my arse. You go in with all this bravado and confidence that you have for a recorded programme. Then someone asks you a question that you can't answer and you get that awful papery feeling in your mouth. It's horrible.

Mark You've been at this a long time, speaking to people for a living.

Phill Since '83. I started out as Porky the Poet.

Mark By '85, when I started as a poet, you were already a big name on the circuit.

Phill Did you look up to me, Mark?

Mark You don't know this, but I still have a magazine with your poetry and cartoons in it. I treasure that, although I've no idea where it is at present.

"I WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE IN THE PAM AYRES MOULD""

Phill That was a great time. Being a ranter was a great short-cut to comedy. The difference between us, Mark, is that you really were a poet. I was basically just shouting at people. In those days, as long as you said 'Thatcher' every third word, you went down well. If I hadn't said 'Thatcher', I would have been more in the Pam Ayres mould. Because I was shouting and didn't have a chair, I was a ranter.

Mark When did you start doing stand-up seriously?

Phill I was on tour with the Style Council as Porky the Poet. I got that gig because there wasn't enough space for a support band. The band wanted someone who only needed one bed, one seat on the bus and didn't have any amps to hump around. It was fantastic. Suddenly I was in with the Weller clan. I had Paul Weller's dad continuously asking me if I was all right. Either that or if I wanted to play poker. Jesus! I was only on ?50 a week.

"THIS IS AN INCREDIBLY FUNNY BUSINESS"

Mark I supported a couple of bands too. They were the most evil nights of my life. Terrible times.

Phill Oh no, not for me. I was lucky enough to crash in on the Red Wedge days. It was all the trade unions banging on about fighting the power, standing up for your rights and treating everyone as equals. Which basically meant that they gave anyone a break. Even the most appalling acts were cut a tremendous amount of slack. There were a few lefty loonies there too, of course. There were these three lads down the front every night who always wore exactly the same clothes Paul had had on the previous gig. Very eerie indeed. At my last ever appearance as Porky the Poet, at Hammersmith Odeon with the Style Council, I sang We'll Meet Again. Paul Weller's mum and Mick Talbot's wife came on dressed as a pantomime horse and two of the biggest security men you've ever seen came on stage and just carried me off while I was still singing.

Mark I remember you with the Housemartins too.

Phill I was supposed to be the Housemartins' tour manager. I approached the job a little differently than your average tour manager though. I did no work, didn't deal with any of the money or look after the band. All I ever did was eat the rider. I'd go on and do a couple of poems before I introduced them. That was a year before the Style Council tour. It was my first experience of being up on stage.

Mark Tell me about your heroes, Phill. Who first got you into comedy? For me, it was Alexi Sayle, although I've never actually seen him live.

Phill He was the first comedian I ever went to see.

Mark He didn't seem to care if the audience were enjoying the show or not. In fact, he would go out of his way to alienate a lot of them. It seemed to be more of a challenge for him to get laughs from a crowd which didn't particularly like him as a person. It gave him more satisfaction as a comedian. I've seen you lose an audience like that. One minute they love you. Then suddenly they stop laughing. It happens to every comedian. But most of them clam up. You?re brilliant because you just carry on regardless and win them back. Without wanting to sound sycophantic, that's something I really admire about your act.

Phill Oh, I do enjoy bad gigs. I've had some real stinkers. What I like is to be relaxed enough to do gags that don't work. I enjoy crowds who give me the space to do that, but who I know will be back with me in three or four minutes. It makes you feel special. It reinforces the beauty of stand-up. This is not the sell-through video or a safe, taped TV appearance. A bad moment at a gig is much more exciting than going on and trotting out your sure fire gags. Everyone in the room is sharing that experience with you and it's an absolute one off. It's something new, never to be repeated. That said, there are nights when I have compered the comedy club, and the crowd wants to carry me out shoulder high cheering afterwards. Another night I'll do a very similar set and the audience reaction is nil. I do hate that. This is an incredibly funny business. Or not, as the case may be.