Frank Skinner: Back on the road

A decade on from bulldozing the comedy circuit with his amiable West Midlands swagger, Frank Skinner—in his own words, a “mouthy Brummie,who couldn’t give a fuck”—is back in business. His self-confidence might be wavering (“I’ve been a loser most of my life. I move like a loser, even though I’m a millionaire”), but the 52 year-old comedian is approaching this year’s festival season with the same boyish charm that has characterised his career. It's a childishness which threatens to leap out excitedly at any given moment, not least at any mention of Edinburgh.

Edinburgh holds a special importance for him: “It is where comedy started for me. I came up in 1986 and I saw a show at the Pleasance. David Baddiel was on the bill that night, and I just thought it all seemed such a brilliant way to make a living. The following year I did my first stand-up in the city. I had my first good gig and I thought, ‘wow, I can do this.’ I have so many Edinburgh highlights... it has to be between winning the Perrier Award in 1991, and having sex on Arthur’s seat two hours after the ceremony.” In recent years, however, it's been harder to find a pretext for making the trip up north. “When the festival comes around I think to myself, ‘what excuse could I possibly have to go up to Edinburgh this time?’”.

Thankfully, he wasn’t too hard-pressed for an excuse this year. His sell-out West-End show, Frank Skinner’s Credit Crunch Cabaret, has upped sticks and moved to the Assembly Rooms. Also on the August itinerary is the book festival, where he will talk about his latest book, On The Road, a description of the his trials of life as an ageing performer about to re-enter the world of comedy. It follows the success of the bestselling Frank Skinner, first volume of his autobiography. “The first book was more a rags-to-riches tale,” Skinner confesses between chuckles, “On The Road might be described as a riches-to-rags type of story”.

As far as Skinner is concerned, the credit crunch provides handy material. “It’s a good time for comedy,” Skinner reckons. “In gloomy times, British people seem to think, ‘now hold on, we’re not having it, we’re going to go out and have a good time’. Rather than buying a new car, your average Briton decides to watch Live at the Apollo. I think that we all share a very noble quality there.” With two books under his belt, it is not surprising to find Frank Skinner in pensive mode. On The Road exhibits his tendency to philosophise, testament to his assertion that “the life of an ordinary bloke can still be, in a way, extraordinary”.

Perhaps unusually for celebrity biographies, On the Road has been well received, with praise focussing on his unwavering, and frequently profound honesty. Skinner himself admits “I kind of got hooked on honesty I suppose. “When I was younger, I was changed by this book written by Lenny Bruce called How to Talk Dirty and Influence People. I was amazed by how honest it was, I found it exhilarating and it made me do things differently. I remember after I’d read it, I was in a bar with a few guys, talking to these two girls. One of the girls said ‘Oh, there’s quite a crowd gathering,’ and I said, ‘yeah, well we’re hoping that there might be a chance of sexual intercourse.’” He laughs. “I think it just carried on from that moment. I am very truthful and maybe stupid sometimes, but I’ve certainly maintained my honesty.”

The process of writing has had a profound effect on Skinner. “I would recommend anyone write an autobiography,” he urges. “It’s a brilliant thing to do for your head. It’s a bit like spring-cleaning. At the end of it you have a much clearer sense of who you are. In fact, there ought to be such a thing as autobiography therapy, where people just sit for a long period of time and write it all down.” One thing that has become clear is that ideas develop in this spontaneous way very quickly for the West Midlander. Indeed, it is often hard for the most consciously-attuned ear to keep up with the rants about West Bromwich Albion-themed bathroom tiles and social networking sites. Twitter, in particular, comes under most criticism, with Skinner suggesting a re-branding: "Twatter" is his preference. “I wouldn’t even say some of that stuff to somebody I was sitting next to on the settee,” he concludes triumphantly.

Throughout his ramblings, though, Skinner is alarmingly insightful, and unfailingly funny. “Whenever I go up on to a slightly raised platform, above an audience, I’m just doing the same as I always do – looking for laughs. Book readings aren’t that different from stand-up really.. What’s great about book readings is that people aren’t as shy about walking out if they hate you. If you have two minutes of down time, they’re out of there. It’s brilliant; it really keeps you on your toes as a performer.

"All audiences should operate like that. Last time, I think I lost three out of a few hundred, so I was very pleased." I ask what's next in the pipeline. A novel, perhaps? “I tried to write a novel back in 2006,” he moans. “I got 50,000 words in and I just hated it. My gift is expression rather than invention. I’m not that good at making stuff up, I can only repeat real situations – things that have happened to me. Recently I attempted to revisit that novel. The problem is...”, Skinner pauses, gearing-up the punch line, “when I wrote it, I put a password on the document, and I now I can’t remember it. It’s like the man in the iron mask!” And then a last-ditch scramble of ideas: “I could publish it like that! A national competition to guess the password!” All submissions welcome.